The Other Dursley Son
by scorpiorion
Summary: Brandon Dursley was 9 years old, about to turn 10 when his cousin Harry got his Hogwarts letter. Come to find out, Brandon's a wizard too - a muggleborn like his Aunt Lily. What does destiny have in store for the cousin of Harry Potter? WARNINGS: Eventual Slash, Mpreg, Language, probably more as I go along.
1. Chapter 1

First off, I'd best say right off the bat, I'm not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Author's Notes:**

Just so you know, this is the first story I'll have ever put on Fanfiction, so I'd appreciate any reviews you'd like to give me letting me know what you think. Good? Bad? Ugly? Some constructive criticism would be great, as well as any encouragement you may want to give me. Or flame me. Whatever.

This idea basically came to me, _What if the Dursleys had had another son, a year younger, who turned out to be a muggle born?_ And to make things interesting, I made him gay too.

 **WARNING:** This story will eventually contain slash, as well as mpreg themes.

But that's not going to be for quite a while yet, as Brandon Dursley is still pretty young at the beginning of this story. In fact, this story is listed under genres adventure and friendship, not romance, because I may write this story in multiple volumes, and if I do, it likely won't be until the next one that any kind of romance really emerges.

I'm not a hundred percent sure who I'm going to pair him with yet, but I do have my main candidates chosen already, though I choose not to reveal them thus far. Feel free to let me know what you think on the matter, though don't expect your opinions to change anything. I will say definitively, right now though, that Draco Malfoy will never be paired with this particular OC in this story.

 **Update 05-15-16:** Well, I've added a cover image to the story. I'm casting William Moseley (who played Peter Pevensie in _The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe_ and _Prince Caspian_ ) as Brandon Dursley.

Anyway, without further ado:

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

As the Dursley family were all enjoying a fine breakfast - prepared by Harry, as always - Brandon was surprised when his father spoke, "Get the mail, Dudley." Vernon never had Dudley do anything, it was always Harry, and If their cousin wasn't available to perform any menial tasks, they were always delegated to Brandon next and Dudley last.

So it wasn't altogether surprising that Dudley would protest, "But I'm eating! Make Harry get it." Of course this wasn't true; he'd already finished, and Harry had only just been allowed to sit and eat his portion.

Unperturbed, the whalish Dursley patriarch predictably redirected his demand, "Get the mail, Harry."

At this, Brandon spoke up, "I can get it."

Harry gave him a smile and replied, "Thanks Bran."

After he strode through the kitchen and down the hall to the front door, he found the small pile of letters lying in front of the door under the mail slot. Looking through them real quick, one caught his eye for it's bold green ink and wax seal on the other side with a strange coat of arms. But what really took him aback was the address:

 _Mr. H. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

"Come on son, hurry up!" Vernon yelled. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" he could hear his father chortling at his own joke.

More than a little puzzled at the specificity of the address, Brandon made his way back to the kitchen. First he handed his father his mail, then he sat back down at his spot at the table and subtly handed Harry his letter, whose eyebrows promptly furrowed in confusion.

"Mine?" Harry mouthed quietly.

"Just look at the address, dumb dumb," Brandon whispered very quietly.

Harry only just managed to break the seal when Dudley saw. "Dad! Harry's got something." He then proceeded to yank it out of Harry's hand.

"Hey, give it back! It's mine." Harry yelled.

"Yours?" Vernon said with a nasty smirk, as he snatched it from Dudley. "Who'd be writing to you?"

But after he opened it and glanced over it, the smile fell from his face which blanched considerably.

"P-P-Petunia!"

After taking it and looking at the first line, she didn't look much better. "Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"

"I want to read that letter." Dudley said loudly.

"It's _Harry's_ letter to read, not yours." Brandon told him, indignant on his cousin's behalf.

"Get out, all three of you." Vernon commanded.

"It's _my_ letter. I want to read it," Harry said more firmly than he normally would have.

"Let me see!" Dudley yelled.

"OUT!" Vernon yelled, grabbing Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and throwing them out the door. Brandon followed quickly, thankful that his Dad had only two hands.

Harry and Dudley quietly fought for the keyhole to listen, but Dudley quickly won. Brandon might have dragged Dudley away to let Harry listen alone, but Dudley would just yell that Harry was listening at the door to give him away, so he settled down next to Harry by the crack under the door to listen.

Petunia's voice was quivering, "How do they know where he sleeps? Could they be watching the house?"

"Watching - spying - could be following us." Vernon said wildly.

"But what should we do? We could write back and tell them we don't want -"

Vernon was silent for a while, and Brandon and Harry could see his black shoes pacing back and forth through the kitchen. Finally he replied. "No. It's best if we just ignore it. If they don't get an answer . . . Yes, that's probably best . . . We won't do anything . . ."

"But - " Petunia began.

"I'll not have one in the house, Petunia. When we took him in, we swore that we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense."

X X X

"Harry's going to be moving into your bedroom with you," Vernon told his younger son later that evening after he'd gotten home from work. "And before you ask, no, no one is going to move into the guest bedroom. We need that for when your Aunt Marge comes to visit."

"That's fine," Brandon replied without argument. If nothing else good comes from this letter, at least it finally got Harry out of that stupid cupboard.

His father eyed him suspiciously, obviously wondering why he wasn't complaining. "We'll bring up his cot for him to sleep on until we can purchase a second bed."

"Okay." Brandon would let Harry sleep with him in his bed until then, but he decided not to say so for now, in case his father might think it was abnormal.

After dinner, Harry and Brandon pulled the cot out of the cupboard and brought it upstairs, along with his few other belongings. They made it up like Harry was going to sleep on it and messed it up a little bit too, so that it would look like it had been slept on in the morning. Petunia never usually actually opened the door to wake Brandon, or Harry when he had lived in his cupboard, so they hoped that she would continue that trend the next day. Not that they thought that they would get into any real trouble if they got caught, after all, they hadn't been expressly told not to sleep in the same bed together, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

It didn't take long for the two of them to settle in together and turn the lights out. Harry cuddled up next to his younger cousin. "Thanks for this, Bran. You really didn't have to, you know. You're my favorite cousin."

"That's saying a lot," Brandon laughed. "You're my favorite cousin too."

"I'm your only cousin, silly," Harry laughed too.

"How could you forget!" Brandon replied dramaticly, but not any louder than necessary. "I'm going to tell poor Ripper that you forgot all about him, next time I see him."

Harry moaned, "I'm not likely to _ever_ forget that nightmare."

"Aunt Marge was going to leave you up in that tree until midnight, but I convinced her to call Ripper off by nine o'clock."

"You never told me that," Harry replied. "See, you're the best cousin ever."

"I know," Brandon said, after which he received a light thwack upside the head.

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Bran."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

Now, to be honest, I can't really take credit for a lot of this chapter. I've taken quite a bit straight out of Book 1. It's basically Chapter 4: The Keeper of the Keys with my OC in it.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Brandon could hardly believe how far his father had gone to keep these letters from Harry. Here they all stood, on an island outside a pretty desolate looking shack, in some desperate attempt to lose someone that had an exact pinpoint location on them, judging by the addresses on the letters.

Granted, it was scary that whoever it was always knew where they were, but surely Vernon didn't actually think they could all live like this for any extended time period, away from any and all civilization. He would have to go back to work at some point.

Inside the shack were only two rooms. It was damp and smelly, but at least it was out of the weather for the most part. The roof kept the rain out, although the wind whistled between the gaps in the wooden walls. Still though, it was better than outside.

They all gathered round on the moth-eaten sofa, with Harry and Brandon each getting a spot on the floor, and Vernon gave them all their _rations_ , which turned out to be a small bag of chips and a banana for each of them. After they'd all finished with their chips, he used the bags to try and light a fire, but they just smoked and shriveled up.

None of this seemed to bother him, however. "Sure could use some of those letters _now_!" he said very cheerfully.

Brandon and Harry shared a look. As far as they were concerned, Dudley had been right earlier that day: Vernon had gone mad.

When they settled in for the night, Vernon designated everyone's sleeping areas. He and Petunia would be sleeping in the bedroom, which they would get to themselves, Dudley would get to sleep on the sofa, and Harry and Brandon would be sleeping on the floor.

Petunia found a few ragged looking blankets in the bedroom. "There aren't enough for everyone, so you and Harry will have to share," she told her youngest son.

"That's fine," he told her.

She gave them the better of the two blankets than she gave to Dudley, both thicker and less ragged, to which Dudley complained, "Why do they get a better blanket than me?"

"Because you get the sofa and they're sleeping on the floor. Now don't ask questions, and let's try to go to bed," she told him firmly.

Dudley groaned miserably and rolled over on the sofa. Fortunately for Harry and Brandon though, he fell asleep fairly quickly, not leaving any time for him to try and get retribution or quietly steal the better of the two blankets.

Both Brandon and Harry lie awake on the floor though, watching the minutes pass by on the light up dial of Dudley's watch, where his arm hung down.

"You'll be eleven years old in just a few minutes, Harry," Brandon whispered to his cousin.

"Joy of joys, spending my eleventh birthday in a shack with this lot. Better than some birthdays I've had, I suppose," Harry said wryly.

The two of them watched the time slowly tick away to midnight. When there were only five seconds left to go, Brandon was ready to say, "Happy birthday!" as loudly as he dared, but just as the clock ticked to 12:00:00, a loud BOOM shook the whole shack. Was someone actually outside knocking to get in?

Harry and Brandon sat bolt upright, as they knocked again. BOOM!

"Where's the Canon?" Dudley said stupidly as he jerked awake on the sofa.

Vernon crashed through the door from the other room, holding a rifle in his hands of all things.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you, I'm armed."

The booming paused for a moment before - SMASH!

The door was hit with enough force to knock the whole thing clean off it's hinges. In the doorway stood a giant of a man, his face hidden mostly by a shaggy mane of hair and a wild tangled beard, but you could still see his eyes, glinting like black beetles.

He squeezed his way into the hut, stooping, and bent down to fit the door back onto its frame. He turned to look at them all and said, "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey."

He strode over to the sofa, where Dudley sat frozen with fear. "Budge up, yeh great lump."

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouched, terrified, behind uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" the giant exclaimed with a smile. "Las' time time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer Dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

Vernon made a funny rasping noise before finding his voice, "I demand you leave at once sir! You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," the giant said, reaching behind the sofa, grabbing the gun, which he proceeded to bend into a knot like it was made of rubber. This elicited another funny noise from Vernon, like a mouse being stepped on.

"Anyway - Harry," the giant began, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

He pulled a large squashed box, which Harry opened to find a large sticky chocolate cake with the words _Happy Birthday Harry_ written in green icing.

Harry might have said thank you, but clearly this was all a little too much for him to take and the words that came out of his mouth were, "Who are you?"

The giant then proceeded to introduce himself, "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Whatever that was. He then proceeded to make himself at home. He bent over the fireplace for a second and when he pulled back up, there was a roaring fire. He pulled all sorts of things out of the never-ending supply of pockets in his coat. Sausages, a kettle, several chipped mugs, and a poker. Soon the hut was filled with the sound and smell of sizzling sausage.

Brandon felt his mouth watering, and Dudley could be seen fidgeting behind their mother.

"Dudley, Brandon," Vernon began, "I don't want either of you touching anything he gives you."

"Yer great puddin' of a son, hiding behin' yer wife, don' need fattenin' anymore than he already is, Dursely, don' worry. The younger one here though, is almos' skinny as Harry here."

Hagrid passed Harry and Brandon the sausages. They were slightly burnt, but that didn't matter; the both of them were so hungry that they didn't think they'd ever tasted anything so wonderful.

Finally, after he'd eaten his share of sausages, Harry said to the giant, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

"Jus' call me Hagrid. Everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. O' course, yeh'll know all about Hogwarts."

"Er - no," Harry replied.

Hagrid was shocked. "But - blimey, Harry. Didn' yeh ever wonder where yer mum and dad learned it all?"

"All what?"

"ALL WHAT?!" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait here jus' one second." He turned on the Dursley's. "Now do you mean ter tell me, that this boy - this boy! - knows nothing abou' - about ANYTHING?!"

"Well, he can be a bit simple sometimes, but really that's going a bit far," Brandon put in teasingly.

"Tha's not what I mean. I mean about _our world._ About _his parents' world,_ " Hagrid said with a wave of his hand.

"What world?" Harry and Brandon asked simultaneously.

Hagrid almost exploded, "DURSLEY!"

Vernon only managed to mumble something that sounded like, "Mimblewimble."

"But Harry, yeh mus' know about yer mum and dad. They're _famous_. You're _famous_!"

"Famous?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"Yeh don' know . . ." Hagrid said bewilderedly. "Yeh don' even know what yeh are!"

"Stop!" Uncle Vernon shouted, having somehow found his voice again. "I forbid you to tell the boy _anything_!"

Hagrid stood, towering over the Dursley patriarch. "Yeh never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him! How could you keep that from him for all these years?!"

"Kept what from me?"

"STOP!" Vernon commanded. "I forbid you!"

"Yer a wizard, Harry."

At these words, a silence fell over the shack, broken only by the sound of the sea and rain outside, and the whistling wind.

"I'm a _what_?" Harry said bemusedly.

"A wizard, o' course," Hagrid said, sitting back down on the sofa. "An' a thumpin' good'un I'd wager, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' Dad like yers, what else could yeh be? An' I think it's time yeh read yer letter."

Hagrid pulled from one of his many pockets, an envelope, like all the others, addressed:

Mr. H. Potter

The Floor

Hut-on-the-Rock

The Sea

Harry read the letter quickly, and handed it over to Brandon, who took the time to quickly read:

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

"Now comes the hard part," Hagrid said grimly. "I don' imagine this'll be easy fer yeh ter accept, Dursley, but I've been told ter tell yeh, and yeh'll be needin' ter know. Yer young son Brandon 'ere is a wizard too."

"What?!" this time it was Petunia, who spoke. "No! That can't be!"

"He's like Lily was, Petunia. A wizard born of muggle parents."

"NO! Oh, Vernon!" she wailed. "No, you can't take my baby boy! I'll not allow him to go to that monstrous _school_!"

"He won' be goin'," Hagrid confirmed. "Not 'til nex' year at least. He's abou' a year younger than Harry here, righ'?

"I'll be ten on August seventh," Brandon put in.

"That means yeh'll be eleven by September first o' next year, which means that yeh can attend Hogwarts then."

"NEVER!" Vernon growled. "No son of mine will go to that - that - _school_!" He was almost panting for how angry he was, and Petunia actually _was_ hyperventilating. "And Harry won't be going either!"

Hagrid scoffed, "An' I'd like to sea a great Muggle like yerself try an' stop him."

"There's that word again," Brandon said. "Muggle?"

"Muggle," Hagrid confirmed. "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck that the two of yeh grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in that we'd put a stop to all that rubbish!" Vernon exclaimed. "And now he's gone and corrupted my son!"

"Tha's not the way it works yeh great idiot," Hagrid said.

"You knew," Harry spoke out, with far more venom than he would usually dare with his caretakers. "You knew all along that I'm a - a wizard? And you never told me?"

"Knew?" Petunia shrieked suddenly. "Of course we knew! And how could you not be, my _dratted_ sister being what she was? Oh, she got her letter and disappeared off to that - that _school_ \- and came home every vacation with pockets filled with frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But oh no! Mother and Father were so _proud_ of having a witch in the family! Then she met that Potter at school and they got married and had you. And I knew you'd be the same, just as strange and - and _abnormal_! Then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up, and we got landed with you!"

"Blown up?" Harry said angrily. "You told me that my parents died in a car crash!"

"A CAR CRASH!" Hagrid boomed, jumping up so angrily and abruptly that the rest of the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter! It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"Why would every child know Harry's name?" Brandon asked.

All anger faded from Hagrid's face, then. Suddenly he looked a bit anxious. "First off, yeh've got ter know I didn' expect any o' this, Harry. Dumbledore told me yeh might have trouble gettin' yer letter, 'cause o' this lot, but I had no idea how much yeh didn' even know. I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh, but someone's gotta. Yeh can' be goin' ter Hogwarts without knowin'." He threw a dirty look at the elder Dursleys with that statement.

"I'll tell yeh everythin' I can - mind - I can't tell yeh everything, some of it's a great mystery." He sat down again and stared at the fire before continuing.

"It starts with a person. Yeh wouldn' know his name - how could yeh? But it's a name everyone in our world knows, and fears. No one even says it if they can help it."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went . . . bad. As bad as you can go. Worse. Worse than worse. And his name was . . ." The name seemed to catch in Hagrid's throat.

"Could you just write it down?" Brandon suggested.

"Nah," Hagrid said, "Can't spell it. Alright - _Voldemort_." Hagrid shuddered as he whispered the word.

"Voldemort?" Harry and Brandon asked together.

Hagrid looked like he might have a heart attack. "Don' say the name!"

The two cousins briefly shared a look as Hagrid pulled himself back together. "Anyway - this wizard, 'bout twenty years ago now, started gatherin' followers, some were afraid of him, others that wanted to share in the power he was gettin' for himself. Dark days, didn' know who to trust. Some stood against him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. There weren' many safe places left. Hogwarts was one o' the few. Reckon Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of.

"Yer mum an' dad were as good a witch as ever I met, he might've wanted 'em on his side, but never would have. They opposed him. So he showed up at the village where yeh all lived on Halloween ten years ago. Yeh were just a year old an' he - he - "

By this point, tears were rolling down Hagrid's cheeks and he pulled a dirty handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just so sad. Yer mum and dad - nicer people yeh couldn' find anywhere, an' You-Know-Who killed 'em." He paused momentarily to pull himself together, before continuing, "But the real mystery is that he didn' stop there. He tried ter kill you too. No one knows why, but for whatever reason, it didn' work. That scar on your forhead? That was no ordinary cut. Mark like that only comes from a powerful, evil curse. The same curse that killed yer mum and dad, an' even destroyed the house. That's why yer famous Harry. No one lived once he decided to kill 'em; he killed some of the best witches and wizards of the day, but he couldn't kill you."

Brandon looked over to his cousin, a sad, thoughtful look on his face, before Hagrid continued, "I took yeh from the wrecked house, myself, on Dumbledore's orders and brought yeh ter this lot."

"Load of old tosh!" Vernon said, getting another surge of courage. "I accept there's something strange about you, boy, and maybe Brandon too. But it's nothing that a solid beating can't cure. As for your parents, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world is better of without them, in my opinion - asked for all they got -"

At this point, Hagrid leaped out of the sofa and pulled a battered pink umbrella from the inside of his coat, which he pointed at Vernon like a sword. I warn you now, Dursley - I warn you - one more word . . ."

Vernon's courage died again and he went silent once more, cowering in the corner with his wife and eldest son.

"That's better," Hagrid said as he sat back down on the sofa.

Brandon's mind was still on Hagrid's story though, and he couldn't help but wonder -

"What happened to Vol -, sorry - I mean, You-Know-Who?" Harry said, voicing his cousin's thoughts.

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night as when he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. An' that's the biggest mystery, see . . . He was gettin' more an' more powerful - why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. I dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. I reckon he's still out there somewhere, but lost his powers, too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him that night, Harry. No one knows what, but somethin' was goin' on that night that he didn' count on, an' you stumped him."

Brandon was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all this, so he was sure Harry definitely would be too, especially with the warm smile Hagrid was giving him, like he was some kind of saviour.

"Hagrid, I think you've made a mistake," Harry said finally. "I don't think I could be a - a wizard."

Hagrid chuckled at this, "Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Brandon had been about to express similar thoughts that _he_ couldn't possibly be a wizard, but then he thought to some of the things that had happened in the past . . . .

When he was seven and Harry was eight, he overheard Dudley with his gang in his bedroom, talking - plotting really - how they were going to surprise Harry and beat him up together. This wasn't so unusual, but at the time, Dudley's gang had been being especially cruel to Harry, who was already bruised and hurting, and his parents didn't even seem to care. Brandon had been angry and without warning, the Door slammed shut jammed itself locked with them all inside it. Vernon had had to get a ladder to let the kids all out from a window and call a locksmith to replace the doorknob.

Another time, when Brandon was in school, Dudley and his gang had been giving _him_ a hard time, which was unusual, because they usually left him alone, as his parents would actually get mad if they hurt _him_. He remembered looking at a fire alarm, wishing that it would go off, so that he could get away from them, and he watched in awe as the alarm seemed to pull itself and it _did_ go off.

In fact, if he thought way back, when he had been only five, his mother had taken he, Harry, and Dudley to the park, and he had climbed to the top of the tallest slide in the playground, and jumped off, but landing safely on the ground below, almost seeming to float down. Harry had been too busy being tormented by Dudley for either of them to notice, but Petunia had, and she had had a fit. In his short years, Brandon had never seen his mother so angry. She had seemed so worried at the time. Had she suspected then, what he might be?

Hagrid's voice pulled him out of his own thoughts. "See? Harry Potter not a wizard - you wait, yeh'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

Vernon interupted then, clearly not ready to give up without a fight. "I told you, he's not going. He'll go to Stonewall High and he'll be gratefull for it. I've read that letter and he needs all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," Hagrid growled. "Lily and James' son not go to Hogwarts? Yer mad! His name's been down since he was born. He'll be at the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled -"

"I WILL NOT PAY TO HAVE SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" Vernon yelled. "AND IF YOU THINK I'LL ALLOW MY SON TO ATTEND THAT JOKE OF A SCHOOL, YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING!"

Hagrid looked angrier than ever as he rose from the sofa once again. "NEVER -" he thundered, "- INSULT - ALBUS - DUMBLEDORE - IN - FRONT - OF - ME!" He pulled out his umbrella once again and pointed it at Dudley, but glanced at Brandon at the last second before he actually did anything. He lowered the umbrella. "Be thankful that yer other son needs yer permision ter be able to attend Hogwarts, or I'd give yeh a lesson on what magic can really do."

"NEVER!" Vernon cried. "I WILL _NEVER_ GRANT PERMISION!"

"Seems Dumbledore will have ter come have a talk with yeh himself at some point after all," Hagrid said sadly. "Perhaps he can explain better than I can, that Magic isn't something yeh can just make go away. It's part of who and what yeh are. He has to learn to control his magic, an' Hogwarts is the best place fer that."

"Poppycock!" Vernon yelled.

"I'm tired of listenin' ter yeh, Dursley, Why don't yeh go back ter bed?" Hagrid said with a yawn. "Unless yeh'd like that lesson on what magic can do, after all?" Hagrid made a point of brandishing the umbrella as he said that last.

"Fine," Vernon replied with as much defiance as he could muster. "And good riddance. Come on into the other bedroom, Dudley," he paused momentarily. "Brandon, you too."

"I'm fine, thanks, Dad," his son said angrily. "The freaks can stay out here, and Muggles in there."

"Brandon!" Petunia said mournfully.

To which Brandon replied, "How long have you suspected what I am, Mum?"

Her eyes fell to the floor.

"How long have you, suspected that I'm a freak, just like your sister?" He asked.

Vernon looked at his wife, wearing a confused expression. "What does he mean by that?" he asked her, but his wife did not answer, instead withdrawing into the bedroom, her eldest son following her, Vernon not far behind.

Once they disappeared behind the door, Harry asked Hagrid, "What's this part of the letter that says, "We await your reply by owl no later than July thirty-first?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me!" Hagrid exclaimed, pulling a real, live, ruffled looking owl from his pocket. As well as a quill and a roll of parchment.

He hastily scrawled a quick note:

 _Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

 _Given Harry his letter._

 _Taking him to buy his things tomorrow._

 _Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

 _Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the bit of parchment and tied it to the owl's leg, then proceeded to open the door and throw it out into the storm.

"That explains what Dad thought he was doing," Brandon said suddenly. "He thought that if you didn't get a reply by the end of the day on the thirty-first - today - it would be too late, and Harry wouldn't be able to go to the school."

Harry looked at him with wide eyes. "Of course! That explains the mad chase Dad led us on up and down the country!"

"Right," Hagrid said. "Well, anyways, we'd best be getting some shut-eye. Busy day tomorrow, Harry. Got ter get ter town, buy yer books an' all that."

"What about me?" Brandon said. "Dad will _never_ let me go to Hogwarts. What can I do?"

"I'll tell Dumbledore 'bout the situation when I see him, an' he'll probably come himself at some point before nex' term ter sort things out with yer parents," Hagrid said reassuringly. "He'll be a lot better at gettin' through ter 'em than I am."

"Is it usual for the Headmaster to get involved in this sort of thing?" he asked the giant.

"I woudn' say it's usual," Hagrid said, scratching his beard. "Normally that'd be summat Professor McGonagall would handle, but these aren' the usual circumstances. Fer starters, yeh're the cousin o' Harry Potter, and yer parents are the most stubborn Muggles I ever had the displeasure o' meetin'." He quickly threw in, "No offense to you o' course."

"None taken," Brandon replied.

"An' as great a witch and as qualified as she is, I don' think Professor McGonagall has the patience to deal with the Dursleys. I know I sure don'."

Brandon nodded his understanding, but still seemed worried.

Hagrid took off his massive, thick black coat and tossed it to them. "Here, yeh can both kip under that." He told them. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit. I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** There you have chapter 2. I have three more chapters already written out, but I'll probably wait a bit before I post anymore than this. Enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**

Well, I wasn't going to post this for another 12 hours, but I can't sleep and I've got some writers block as I'm trying to wrap up Chapter 6, so I thought I'd go ahead and post another one. I hope you like it, though to be honest, this is really just kind of a filler chapter for the most part.

I'm pleased to see that in less than 24 hours I've gained seven followers and two favorites. That's not many, but it's more than I thought I would get so very soon, anyhow.

Anyway, with no more ado:

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Brandon awoke, finding himself in what was a surprisingly comfortable position, under Hagrid's large coat. He opened his eyes and looked around and saw that the storm was clearly well gone. The sun had already risen, and could be seen through one of the windows.

As he was looking, a handsome tawny owl flew up to the window. That was odd, as Brandon had always thought that owls were almost always nocturnal creatures, only ever coming out at night. Then he saw the newspaper tied to its foot, and he remembered that Hagrid had sent a letter the night before with an owl.

It began tapping its beak on the window, and Brandon felt his cousin stir next to him. He quietly got up and walked over to the window, when the owl tapped again.

Behind him, Harry mumbled something that sounded like, "Alright, Aunt Petunia, I'm getting up." Brandon watched elder cousin pull himself up and look around, before saying in a quiet, happy voice, "It wasn't a dream, after all."

Grinning widely at Harry, Brandon asked him, "Thought you'd woken up back in your cupboard, did you?" His cousin grinned back sheepishly.

Brandon opened the window to accept the newspaper from the owl, which promptly flew inside, over to Harry, and began attacking Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that!" Harry said to it, trying wave it away with his hands, but it snapped it's beak fiercely at him, before carrying on, savaging the coat.

"Hagrid," Brandon said to the sleeping giant. "There's an owl -"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted, cutting him off.

"With what?" Brandon asked.

"Look in the pockets," Hagrid said. "Should be some coins in there somewhere."

Harry began digging through the coats many pockets. Honestly, the thing seemed to be made of nothing _but_ pockets. Brandon went back over to help him. Finally, harry pulled out some very odd looking coins.

"Give him five knuts," Hagrid said sleepily.

"Nuts?" Brandon asked. "I thought we were paying him coins?"

"Not nuts," Hagrid said. "Knuts. They're the little bronze ones."

Brandon looked more closely at the small bronze coins. On one side, it read, _One Knut,_ with a -K-.

Brandon took the newspaper from the owl's leg and found a small leather pouch tied to its other leg. He proceeded to count out five of the little bronze coins into it. As soon as he dropped the last one, the owl took off out the window again.

Hagrid finally sat up and stretched. "Well, Harry, we'd best be off before the Dursleys wake up an' try an' cause trouble. Yeh'd best say goodbye ter yer cousin fer now. Besides, we've lots to do today. Gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

"Um - Hagrid?" Harry began as Hagrid was pulling un his boots.

"Mm?"

"I haven't any money - and you heard Uncle Vernon last night . . . he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don' worry 'bout that," Hagrid said, standing up. "D'yeh think yer parents didn' leave yeh anythin'?"

"But you said the house was destroyed -"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, firs' stop fer us is Gringotts, the Wizards' bank. Here, have a sausage. They're not bad cold, an' I wouldn' say no to a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither. You too Brandon, have a sausage."

"So wizards have banks?" Brandon asked.

"Jus' the one. Gringotts. Run by the goblins."

" _Goblins_?" Harry gaped.

"Yeah, so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid said. "Now yeh'd best say goodbye to yer cousin. I'll send yeh on a train back home when we're done in London, but that won' be 'til the end o' the day."

Brandon gave his cousin a hug. "I'll see you later, Harry. Tell me everything when you get home."

"Sure thing, Bran," Harry said, hugging him back. "I'll see you later. I hope Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia aren't too hard on you."

"Now this is backwards. _You're_ worried about what Mum and Dad are going to do to punish _me_."

"By the way," Hagrid put in, "it should go without sayin' that yeh're not ter tell anyone about our world. The muggles don' know about us, an' we'd like ter keep it that way."

Brandon nodded his understanding.

"I'm afraid I probably won' see yeh again 'til nex' year, Brandon, so farewell." Hagrid told him. And with that, he opened the door and Brandon watched from the window as they made their way to the dock, wishing he could go with them.

X X X

Later that day, after the long tired trek home from the shack on the rock, the Dursleys finally pulled back up to their house at Number Four Privet Drive. Brandon had expected to find the house flooded with letters as it had been when they had left it, but when the four of them walked through the door, they were all surprised found the house appearing every bit as spotless as Petunia usually kept it.

Brandon found himself feeling more than a little uncomfortable. His mum and dad had scarcely said more than three words to him all day long, and Dudley wasn't being his normal, bratty self either. In fact, he actually seemed a little afraid of him.

Everyone took turns taking showers, and changed into fresh clothes, Brandon took his last, and by the time he'd finished, his mother had made them all sandwiches in the kitchen, and was busy cleaning away. His dad was on the phone in the living room, clearly talking with someone from work, trying to catch up on what had been going on while he was on his _vacation._ From the sound of things, he'd be off soon to put in a partial day's work at the office.

Dudley wasted no time getting himself glued to the television. There wasn't much on this time of day, but he was probably suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Brandon snickered at the thought.

And so on the day went, leaving Brandon alone with his thoughts . . . wondering what Harry was up to in London . . . if they were done purchasing supplies yet . . . when he'd be home . . .

Finally, at the end of the afternoon, pressing toward evening, Brandon was looking out the window from up in his room when he saw his cousin walking down the sidewalk lugging a large trunk and what looked like a birdcage. He raced his way down the stairs and to the front door to meet him.

"Harry's home," Brandon told his mother when she gave him a look that silently asked what he was doing.

Brandon opened the door and ran outside to hug his cousin.

"How'd it go?" he started. " _Where_ did you go? Where does one go to buy magical supplies in London? And what about the owl? What was the bank like? Did you see many goblins?" He shot question after question at his cousin.

"Slow down!" Harry laughed. "Come on, help me take this trunk upstairs to the bedroom, and I'll tell you everything."

"Can I look at your schoolbooks?" Brandon asked enthusiastically.

"Of course!" Harry said, and the cousins beamed at each other.

Once they'd managed to drag the trunk up the stairs and into their little bedroom, Harry told him all about his trip that day into Diagon Alley. All the things that he'd seen, how all the people behaved when they realized who he was, all he'd learned about the Hogwarts houses from the rude blonde boy - everything from brooms and Quidditch to the school uniforms and the equipment list.

When Harry told him about buying his wand at Ollivander's, Brandon made him show it to him.

"That's brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Have you tried to do any magic with it yet?"

"Hagrid says that I shouldn't," Harry explained. "At least not until I've started Hogwarts, that way I know a little bit about what I'm actually doing."

"That makes sense," Brandon said, a little disappointed.

" _Boys, Vernon's home_!" came Petunia's voice from downstairs. " _And dinner is ready_!"

If Brandon thought that the car ride home with his parents had been uncomfortable, dinner with Harry there was downright tense. Vernon completely ignored Harry, but was now awkwardly trying to engage in some small talk with his younger son. Brandon wasn't sure if his father was trying to ignore the fact that he was a wizard, or if he hoped to eventually win him over from actually wanting to attend the _freakish school._ It was probably a mix of the two.

Petunia was doing her best to act natural, but Brandon still noticed her fidgeting every once in a while with her silverware. Dudley, on the other hand, couldn't finish his meal fast enough. He scarfed down all the food on his plate and fled the kitchen immediately when he was done without even having a second helping.

Harry, meanwhile, just sat there and ate his food in silence.

Finally, towards the end of the meal, Vernon broke his silence toward his nephew, "So you're going to be going to that _school._ " He bit that last word out like a poison. " _Fine._ I recognize that there's not a whole lot I can do about it at this point. _But hear me now_ boy." Vernon's face became somewhat purple. "I will _not_ have you practicing your - your _abnormalities_ under this roof!"

Brandon looked over at his mother Petunia, and saw that she was looking at _him_ , with a mournful expression on her face. She looked away when she saw him looking, but Brandon knew that she was thinking about her sister.

"Do you understand me, boy?" Vernon finished with Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry told his uncle.

Vernon's little speech did little to cut the tension for the remainder of the meal. When they were done, Petunia disappeared down the hall into the laundry room, and Vernon went to the living room and made a few calls on the phone. Once Harry finished washing the dishes, Brandon drying for him, the two made their way upstairs to their bedroom.

"So the owl," Brandon began once they were upstairs, "is it a he or a she?"

"She," Harry replied.

"And you don't have a name for her yet?"

"Not really," Harry said. "I haven't thought of anything good yet."

"Well, you know, it might be best if you let her outside at nighttime," Brandon told him. "That way she can hunt, and won't be able to make any noise in here and potentially wake Dad up."

The white owl made a quiet noise, almost as if in protest.

"Not that you would, beautiful," Brandon said to her. "I'm sure you're very well-behaved."

She seemed to puff herself up in a way that suggested that she was pleased at that remark, and Brandon continued to Harry, "You do know, though, that if she should wake Dad up, even once, he'll likely insist that she has to go."

"You're probably right," Harry replied, opening first the owl's cage, then the window, where she flew off into the night.

"I can still scarcely believe that this is happening," Harry told his cousin after a moment. "I still keep thinking I'm going to wake up in my cupboard, and this will all have been a crazy dream."

Brandon put his arm around him comfortingly. "I know how you feel," he said. "Come on. We'd better get to bed. You know that Mum doesn't like having to tell us that it's time for lights out."

"Yeah," Harry yawned. "Well, goodnight, Bran."

"Goodnight, Harry."

X X X

In the following month before Harry left for Hogwarts, things between Brandon and his parents returned to normal for the most part. Sometimes his mother would look pensive, and Vernon would clam up if anything out of the normal happened or came up in conversation, but it seemed that they had decided to pretend that nothing had happened. It was awkward, but it didn't feel altogether _too_ awkward.

On his birthday, his parents had a small party at the house with a couple of his friends from school, and he found himself very thankful that his Aunt Marge never showed up, merely sending a birthday card in the mail, with a couple of pound notes inside.

Dudley slowly started acting more normal around him, though he continued giving Harry a wide berth, which Brandon was thankful for, for his cousin's sake. Vernon and Petunia also seemed to ignore him for the most part, other than to make sure that he continued doing his chores every day.

When the day finally came that Harry was supposed to leave, Brandon was almost crying. "I hate to see you go. When you leave, it'll just be me and _them_ ," he had told his cousin when they had carried the trunk out to the car.

"I know," Harry said. "I wish we were the same age and you could come with me _this_ year." They shared a hug, one of many that they shared that day.

The drive to Kings Cross Station was very quiet, but once they got close, Vernon finally broke the silence from his place in the driver's seat. "Funny way to get to a _wizard's_ school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything, and Brandon thought it was funny that Vernon had said the words _wizard_ and _magic_ without turning purple and shouting.

"Where is this school anyway," Vernon said after a moment.

"I -" Harry began, "I don't actually know." He pulled out his ticket and looked it over briefly. "I just take platform nine and three quarters at eleven o'clock."

"Platform what?" Vernon said incredulously, looking back at his nephew in the rear-view mirror.

"Platform nine and three quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," his uncle told him. "There is no platform nine and three quarters."

"It's on my ticket," Harry replied.

"Barking," Vernon said, "Howling mad, the lot of them. You, just wait, you'll see when we get there."

When they did get there at half past ten, Brandon was surprised when his father dumped Harry's trunk into a cart and wheeled it into the station for him, but understood once they were all inside.

"Alright, Vernon," said with a smile like the cat that swallowed the canary. "There's platform nine - platform ten. I don't see a platform nine and three quarters. But -" he clasped his nephew on the shoulder for a moment in mock encouragement, "have a great term." And with that, he turned around and marched his way back out. "Come on, Brandon, he said over his shoulder."

Brandon looked at his cousin and gave him some _real_ encouragement, "Don't pay any attention to him. I'm sure you can figure this out. Ask one of the workers, and if that fails, try to find anyone you can that looks like they might be magical; there's got to be some around here somewhere. I love you and I'll miss you." He hugged his cousin, tears rolling down his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away, not wanting his father to see.

"I love you, and I'll miss you too." Harry said, a little moist-eyed himself. They broke apart, and Brandon ran off after his father.

 **Author's Note:** I should probably tell you that having as many as three chapters up here, I'm now probably going to update a lot less frequently. Don't expect more than a chapter a week, let alone 3 in 24 hours. :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:**

Well, I decided that I'd post one more chapter this weekend. There's hardly anything here really, haven't gotten to the meat of the story yet, and one more chapter brings us one more chapter closer to it. Also, this should put the story beyond the point of 10,000 words, which I'm really pretty thrilled about.

I don't intend to post any more chapters than this before the next weekend unless I get everything up to chapter ten written out, because I think it would be nice to have five chapters up and five more chapters ready to go. But with work, I seriously doubt that's going to happen.

Anyways, without further ado, here is . . .

 **Chapter 4**

In the first few weeks after Harry's departure for Hogwarts, Brandon and he exchanged letters almost every single day, but as the weeks turned to months, and the school year went on, it eventually dropped down to about twice a week.

Brandon read all about the classes his cousin was taking, and about all the adventures he had with his new friends, Ron and Hermione, throughout the year. Three headed dogs, philosopher's stones, trolls in dungeons, dragons - the works.

A couple of times, Harry even sent him some magical candy. Brandon had been stupid enough to open a chocolate frog while his mother was in the room. Thankfully, she hadn't been looking at that moment, and he managed to capture the rouge frog fairly quickly. It had come with a card, like Harry said it would in the accompanying letter, that showed a picture of a famous witch or wizard, and Brandon got to see his first moving picture. It also had a short paragraph about that witch or wizard's life and accomplishments. Brandon's was the witch Morgana.

Needless to say, he could hardly wait until it was time for _him_ to go to Hogwarts too, and as the months went on, he found himself more and more afraid that his parents wouldn't let him attend. He never dared bring up the subject to them directly. He simply reminded himself that Hagrid had said that Professor Dumbledore would probably come personally to talk to them, doing his best to convince himself that it would all work out.

Hoping to prepare himself, Brandon had been _trying_ to practice magic all year long, with little success. Not that he expected much. He knew from his letters with Harry that successfully performing magic without a wand was very difficult to do _on purpose_. But that wasn't enough to stop him from trying. He would think back to all the times he had ever done accidental magic, and try to put his mind back in the situation to see if he could replicate the effects. He'd had some minimal success trying to magically close a door. He'd moved his bedroom door a whole six inches one time when he was _really_ concentrating.

He'd tried it on a much smaller scale with small objects - marbles, paperclips, pens, and such - and had a little more success. He could make the objects slowly slide across a surface, but he could never make them levitate or anything of that sort.

In the week before Harry was supposed to come home, Harry wrote him about what had happened when they were trying to protect the Philosopher's Stone. More importantly - at least, as far as Brandon's worries were concerned - he had had a nice long talk with Professor Dumbledore, who had said he would be visiting Number Four in a few weeks to personally talk to the Dursleys about Brandon's acceptance into Hogwarts. This had Brandon practically jumping for joy.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the day came that Vernon and Brandon would travel to London to pick up Harry from Kings Cross. Upon seeing his cousin again for the first time in almost a year, Brandon attacked Harry with a monstrous hug. "I missed you so much Harry!"

"You must be Brandon," said a tall, ginger-haired boy that was standing next to Harry. "Nice to meet you."

"And you must be Ron," Brandon replied, offering his hand, which Ron shook. "You too." He noticed a girl standing behind Harry. "And Hermione?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Brandon Dursley."

After the brief exchange of pleasantries - while Vernon was very conveniently off using the public restroom - a girl's voice cried out excitedly, "There he is, Mum, there he is! Look!"

It was a little red-haired girl, that Brandon was certain could only be a Weasley. "Your sister?" he asked Ron, who nodded, looking a little red.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mum! I can see -"

"Be quiet, Ginny," said a somewhat plump, middle-aged, red haired woman, who was probably their mother. "And it's rude to point."

"Busy year?" she asked Harry and Ron with a smile as she and Ginny approached their little group.

"Very," Harry told her. "And thank you for the fudge and sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing dear," she told him sweetly. "And this young man beside you must be your cousin?"

"Brandon Dursley, ma'am," he told her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

"You boys are both so polite," she beamed at them.

"Ready are you?" spoke Vernon's voice as he came up behind them. Brandon could just tell he was thinking, _The nerve of these freaks! Carrying owl cages in a station filled with ordinary people!_

"You must be Harry's uncle!" Mrs. Weasley said with a smile, oblivious to the fact that he felt insulted by her very existence.

"Yes, yes," Vernon said irritably. "Hurry up, boy! We haven't got all day." He walked away.

Brandon and Harry hung back long enough to get in a word with Ron and Hermione.

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," Hermione said, looking uncertainly after her friend's uncle.

"Hope to see you over the summer, Harry," Ron said.

"We'll see where we stand after we've had our visit from Dumbledore," Harry said. "I'll send Hedwig. See you both next term, hopefully sooner!"

X X X

As soon as they had arrived home from Kings Cross, Vernon had hauled Harry's trunk inside the house and locked it under the stairs, much to Harry and Brandon's dismay. He had wanted to lock Hedwig inside her cage the whole summer too, saying that he didn't want the neighbors noticing an owl hanging around the house; Harry not being able to send any letters would be an added bonus. Brandon, however, managed to talk him out of it.

"Harry's friends will be expecting him to write to them, and if he doesn't, they might show up _here_ to check and see if he's okay," he had told his father. "Would you rather chance the neighbors seeing an owl hanging around the house at night, or a Wizard knocking at the door in the afternoon?"

These words left a definite impression on Vernon. "Fine," he'd said. "But you're only to let her out at night, and you'd best make bloody well sure she's back inside _very_ early in the morning!"

During the following week, whenever the rest of the Dursleys were out of earshot, Harry gave his cousin an oral account of everything that had happened during his school year, answering all of Brandon's questions. Brandon, in turn, told Harry about how he'd been trying to practice magic.

"You mean it actually worked?" Harry asked, looking impressed, when his cousin told him one night in their bedroom. "That's brilliant! Show me."

Brandon pulled a marble out of his pocket and set it on the floor. With a little effort trying to concentrate - he'd never tried doing it with an audience before - the marble started to roll. He managed to direct it so that it rolled around in a perfect circle.

"Wicked!" Harry exclaimed. "Wandless magic is supposed to be really difficult! I think I remember Hermione saying that it's only taught at Hogwarts once you reach your seventh year, and even then, not everyone can do it."

"I think it might be because I'm still untrained. That's when _accidental_ magic happens the most often, right? During the time before you start going to Hogwarts?" Brandon asked, forming a theory. "Maybe what I'm doing is kind of - controlled accidental magic, and I won't be able to do it anymore once I've started working with an actual wand."

"I don't know," Harry said thoughtfully. "You should definitely ask one of the Professors when we get to Hogwarts. I bet Professor Flitwick or Professor McGonagall could tell you."

Finally, on a Saturday, with Vernon home from work, the day came that Harry and Brandon were waiting for. From the window in the living room, Brandon saw the tall, bearded man approaching the house, wearing outrageous violet colored robes. He thought about hurrying to answer the door, but decided against it, reasoning that it would probably be best if his Vernon answered it himself. Brandon could hardly wait to see his Dad's reaction.

Vernon didn't disappoint. He opened the door, and his mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of the man standing before him. How dare this madman knock on _his_ door dressed like _that_?

" _Boy_!" Vernon shouted up the stairs at Harry, who came running down the stairs just a few seconds later.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dursley," the bearded man greeted him cordially, as though Vernon had not just shouted. "I am Professor Dumbledore. Would you like to invite me inside, or should I stand out here all day where your neighbors can see me?"

Brandon thought it was almost comical how quickly his father ushered the strange-looking man inside after that statement, and how he made sure to close all the curtains to the windows.

By this point, Petunia had come into the room to see who it was and dropped her feather duster as soon as she saw the man standing in her living room.

"Good afternoon, Petunia," Professor Dumbledore said with a bright smile. "It has been far too long."

Brandon watched as his mother seemed to pull herself together. "Not long enough, if you ask me," she said evenly. "The last time I saw you, you took my sister away from me. Now you plan to do the same with my son?" Her voice became more venomous as she went. "I will not have it! Vernon, tell him, we will not have it!"

"Your son _is_ magical, Petunia," Professor Dumbledore said before her husband could get a word in. "There is no denying it. He needs to learn to control his powers, and Hogwarts is the best place -"

"Rubbish!" Vernon shouted. "Even if my son is a little strange, that doesn't mean that he has to become - to become one of you! He can live a normal life, go to a regular school. I've already registered him to go to Smeltings with Dudley!"

"That is exactly what it means," Dumbledore said. "If Brandon is not trained to use his magic, the raw untapped power within him will build up until it finally forces it way out, in unexpected ways and unpredictable times." The Dursleys looked horrified at this revelation. "Sometimes it will be harmless, he could accidentally make objects levitate, or make the carpet change color, but other times," Dumbledore looked sad as he said this, as though he was speaking from personal experience, "other times, the magic will emerge violently. One very bad temper tantrum would be all it would take to leave this house in ruins."

"You're lying!" Vernon said, though somewhat deflatedly. The battle seemed half won.

Brandon chose this moment to demonstrate what he could do. He concentrated with all his might, and the couch slid three feet across the floor. Everyone in their room immediately turned their attention to him. Harry was smiling from his place by the foot of the stairs, his mother started sobbing violently, Dumbledore looked surprised and maybe a little concerned, and his father was shaking his head, with his eyes closed, as if refusing to believe it.

"You see what your son is capable of?" Dumbledore told them. "That is nothing compared to what could happen should he lose control in an emotional situation. The instances of accidental magic will only become worse and more frequent as time goes on."

"Let's say that we _do_ let him go to your school," Petunia began.

"Petunia!" Vernon exclaimed.

"You saw what happened," she said tearfully to her husband. "We can't just keep ignoring it."

"But - but -," Vernon couldn't think of anything to say.

"If we allow him to go to your school, could he still live a normal life?" Petunia continued.

"Some wizards _do_ choose to integrate themselves into muggle lives rather than live in the wizarding world, it's true," Dumbledore told her. "But to be honest, not many choose that path, and those that do often do so because they don't have much other choice."

Petunia looked thoughtful for a moment. Vernon meanwhile looked in a stupor, seemingly unable to believe that his wife was even considering this. He would open his mouth to speak, but no words would come out, so he'd close it again.

"Will you take him yourself to get his school supplies?" Petunia finally asked.

Brandon looked at Harry, scarcely believing how smoothly this whole thing was going.

"I'm afraid I cannot go myself," Professor Dumbledore said. "However, I believe the parents of Harry's friend Ron, the Weasleys, would be more than happy to take both Brandon and Harry to Diagon Alley during the summer. Arthur and Molly are good people, and I'm certain you have no intention of venturing into Wizarding London yourselves."

"We'll want to meet them," Petunia told him.

"That can be arranged," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling in his smile. "I'll send them an owl."

Vernon finally found his voice again, "Are we really doing this, Petunia? Are we going to allow our son to - to become a freak at that school?!"

"It's not something you can choose for me," Brandon said loudly. "I myself am not _choosing_ to be a _freak_. I was _born_ a _freak_ , and it's not something you can just stamp out of me!"

His dad looked totally defeated. "Fine," he said. "You can go to that school. To - to _Hogwarts_." He said the last word like it left a very bad taste in his mouth.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "I'm glad that this visit has come to a happy conclusion. I shall see both of you next year, Harry - Brandon." He nodded to the two of them. "And I thank the both of you for your hospitality, and bid you a good day," he added, turning to the Dursleys. And with that, he turned around and walked out the door.

"Bollocks," Vernon said, and Brandon and Harry smiled to each other.

That night, Harry wrote a letter to the Weasleys. Most of the letter was for Ron, but he also included a part intended for Mrs. Weasley, doing his best to be polite rather than presumptuous, asking if they would be kind enough take he and his cousin to Diagon Alley, as well if it would be alright if they could stay over for a while during the summer. They were somewhat alarmed, however, when Hedwig arrived back at the window, less than an hour later, with no letter tied to her leg, looking rather agitated.

 **Author's Note:** Leaving you with a minor cliffhanger. Aren't those fun?


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

Well, here's the a new chapter. Remember, I'd love to hear what you think. Give me a review!

 **Chapter 5**

In the following month after Professor Dumbledore's visit, Harry and Brandon tried to send several more letters, but Hedwig kept coming back _without_ a letter, neither a reply, nor the one they'd given her. Knowing that Hedwig was far to reliable to be losing letters, let alone this many, the cousins concluded that the only possible explanation was that the letters were being intercepted. No letters had come from the Weasleys, Dumbledore, or anyone else for that matter.

Finally, they decided to try sending Hedwig _without_ a letter, after which she disappeared for three days before coming back, no letter tied to her leg, but appearing more frustrated than ever.

Brandon and Harry were unsure what to do. They could try to go to the Leaky Cauldron to find help—Harry knew the way from when he went with Hagrid—or they could wait it out until someone came to see them, wondering why they hadn't been responding to their mail.

"Unless whoever it is, _is_ responding to our mail, using our names," Brandon had suggested when he and Harry had been discussing it. That thought hadn't set well with either of them. It would help if they knew whether Hedwig had gotten through all the way to the Weasleys when they had sent her without a letter. If the owl had showed up at their house with nothing, that would surely let them know that something was up.

They hadn't informed Vernon and Petunia about this little hiccup with the mail yet, but they didn't seem inclined to ask, anyways. The elder Dursleys had continued ignoring the situation for the most part since Professor Dumbledore's visit, and it was likely that they hoped that any letter would simply never show up. Dudley had been at a friend's house at the time of Dumbledore's visit, but apparently, his parents had told them about it at some point, because now he was giving Brandon the same wide berth he had been giving Harry.

When Harry's birthday came, the boys were as tense about the situation as ever. Vernon had a dinner party coming up that night, hoping to receive a massive order of drills for his company from a big time builder. He and his wife would be showing up at around eight o'clock, and Vernon had the whole house in a tizzy getting ready for it, going over his _ridiculous_ schedule over and over again.

That morning, over breakfast, Vernon had cleared his throat importantly before beginning, "Now we all know, today is a very important day."

Brandon of course knew that his father was talking about the dinner party, but he watched in amusement as Harry's eyebrows raised momentarily in disbelief, thinking that his Uncle had remembered his birthday.

"Today may well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," Vernon said, to which Harry rolled his eyes and went back to his toast. "I think we should run through the schedule one more time . . ."

Brandon had had about enough of this stupid schedule. His father wanted them all to behave like simpering fools and fawn over the Masons when they arrived, and even had a schedule for when they would make compliments and tell jokes. It was pathetic.

He was completely jealous of Harry, who would get to stay up in their bedroom and _'pretend he's not there'_ the entire night.

Vernon even took he and Dudley out to pick up _dinner jackets._ It was a nightmare as far as he was concerned, but he supposed that his father _did_ stand to make a lot of money if the night went the way he hoped. Still, he didn't like the idea of having to _suck up_ to these rich _stuck-ups_ in his own home.

While his parents were busy preparing for this stupid dinner, Brandon decided that since it was his cousin's birthday, he would do something nice for him, so he broke into the cupboard under the stairs and pulled a couple of books out of the trunk. He found a couple of unopened chocolate frogs and grabbed them too, bringing them upstairs to he and Harry's room.

They would most certainly get in trouble if Vernon or Petunia found out, but Brandon was hoping that if this deal went through, they'd be in such a good mood that they wouldn't mind so much. If the deal _didn't_ go through—well, Brandon chose not to think too much about that. Besides, chances were good that they _wouldn't_ find out, and his dad seemed pretty confident that the deal _would_ go through.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Brandon had said when he opened the door and brought in the books and frogs.

"You didn't!" Harry said with a huge smile on his face.

"But I did!" Brandon replied, giving his cousin a hug.

"They really didn't notice you breaking into the cupboard?" Harry asked, hardly believing it.

"Please!" the younger cousin scoffed. "They're so busy worrying about this dinner that they wouldn't have noticed if I'd done it right in front of their faces!"

"Now I doubt that," giggled Harry. "Nice jacket, by the way." Brandon groaned at that, and Harry handed him back one of the chocolate frogs.

"I got them for you, silly."

"I want to share it with you."

Brandon took the offered frog and they each opened their respective packages. Harry's jumped right out of the package as soon as Harry opened it and landed on the dresser a couple of feet away, where Harry quickly grabbed it and shoved it in his mouth. Brandon's, on the other hand, barely managed to move an inch.

"Yours must be a little older," Harry told him. The charm seems to be wearing off."

Brandon ate it without complaint, regardless. He looked at his card and said, "I've got Ptolemy."

"I got the druidess Cliodna, again," Harry replied. What did you do with your card from the one that I sent you when I was at school?"

Brandon pulled out a copy of _Treasure Island_ by Robert Louis Stevenson, and opened it up to pull out a chocolate frog card. Seeing the look on Harry's face, he told him, "No one in this house, apart from you and me is likely to open a book unless they have to."

His cousin laughed, "Very true." He looked at the card. "I see you got Morgana. Dumbledore was the first one I ever got when I was on the train with Ron."

Vernon's voice echoed from downstairs, "Brandon, get down here! We've less than half an hour before the Masons are supposed to arrive! Harry, I suggest you get down here too if you expect to get anything to eat tonight!"

X X X

To say Brandon was bored would be an understatement, Everyone was gathered at the dining room table, eating the dinner that Petunia had been working on for most of the day. As Brandon ate another bite of the pork roast, he thought to himself that if nothing else, at least the food was good. It wasn't fair that Harry didn't get to enjoy any of it.

Vernon was in the middle of telling the Japanese golfer joke that he had been rehearsing for two weeks when suddenly everyone heard a loud yelping noise coming from upstairs. Everyone went quiet at the dinner table, and through the yelps, you could hear an odd tapping sound.

Brandon was sure of one thing, those yelps _weren't_ coming from Harry.

"Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke," Vernon said with an uncomfortable expression.

"I'll go get it, Dad," Brandon immediately offered, hoping to spare Harry Vernon's wrath, and to see who or _what_ was making that odd noise. It almost didn't sound human. Perhaps Harry had caught something that had been intercepting their letters, Brandon thought wildly.

But his father immediately stood up and replied, "No, son, it's fine. I can get it."

Petunia did her best to keep the conversation going while her husband was upstairs. He came back down a minute later with a forced smile on his face, and the evening continued.

A short while later, however, behind the Masons, Brandon noticed movement in the kitchen, but it was at an angle that Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia couldn't see it. With a quick, "May I be excused to the bathroom, Dad?" he shot into the kitchen and nearly shouted out when he saw a very short, odd little creature with bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls, wearing what looked like a ragged old pillow-case. But that was only half of it, floating up near the ceiling was his mothers great pudding of whipped cream and sugared violets.

Harry was standing there, in the kitchen, arguing with the weird little thing.

"No, please!" Harry whispered. "They'll kill me!"

"Harry Potter must promise! He must say he won't go back to school," said the creature.

"Dobby, please!"

"Say it sir—"

"I can't—"

The thing gave Harry a tragic look. "Then, Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

And with that, Dobby vanished with the sound like a crack of a whip, and the pudding began falling to the floor. In that moment, time seemed to slow down as Brandon panicked and concentrated with every fiber of his being on magically saving the pudding. After a split second, the pudding was floating again, and Brandon was careful to let it slowly fall down into his waiting hands.

"Is everything okay in there," his father asked.

"Yes, fine," Brandon said as he set the pudding back on the counter and waved Harry on to go back upstairs. He walked back into the dining room, saying, "Sorry. I almost tripped on my own feet and bumped into the stove, but nothing broke so all is well." He laughed, and so did the Masons, but his parents looked a little worried.

The rest of the dinner passed by slowly, but without incident. Vernon successfully closed the deal for the drills, though it wasn't as large of an order as he had hoped, but all that Brandon could think about was going upstairs to ask Harry what the hell all that was about. It was very likely that that creature—Dobby or whatever—was the one responsible for their missing mail.

Finally, when the Masons went home, Brandon was allowed to go upstairs to go to bed. As soon as he opened the door, Harry was in there waiting for him, looking ready to burst.

"He's the one!" his cousin cried, as loudly as he dared. "He's the one that's been stopping our mail!" Harry proceeded to tell Brandon about _his_ evening: how Dobby, the house elf had been waiting for him in his room when he had come back upstairs and all that he had told him, how someone was plotting to make terrible things happen at Hogwarts this year.

"It could hardly be any worse than it was last year, judging from all that you told me," Brandon said. "We can't let this house elf thing stop us from getting a magical education."

Harry nodded his agreement, but asked, "What can we do about it though? Even knowing who it is, we have no way of contacting anyone in the magical world unless we try to go to the Leaky Cauldron on our own."

"I have an idea," Brandon said, cogs turning behind his eyes. "This Dobby creature doesn't sound like he's altogether very bright. Granted it might not work if he doesn't bother to look at the contents of our letters."

"What is it?" Harry asked bemusedly.

"Well, what if we wrote a letter to someone—Dumbledore, the Weasleys, whoever—saying that we didn't want to go back to Hogwarts this year," Brandon said. "If Dobby were to read that we didn't want to go back, he might actually let the letter get through."

"How would that help us?" Harry asked. "We don't want them thinking that we don't want to go to Hogwarts do we?"

"I've read a little bit about how sometimes during war, oftentimes both sides would try and encode their messages so that the enemy couldn't read them," Brandon told his cousin. "Sometimes they would send a message that said one thing, but within the message would be a code that said something else entirely. I was thinking of using spelling errors."

"Most wizards don't know much about muggle things like that," Harry said. "They'd probably just read the letter and take it as it was written."

"But they would think it was very unusual that we decided, out of the blue, that we didn't actually want to go back to Hogwarts. Especially since they think we've been ignoring them all this time. They would read it again and again," Brandon looked thoughtful again. "We'll have to make the code really obvious. Again, we'll be counting on the fact that this Dobby thing didn't seem very bright."

"Lets do it," Harry agreed. "I mean chances are that it might not reach them anyways if Dobby won't read the mail that he's stopping. We've got to do something."

And so the two of them set to work, wording the letter very carefully. After about six drafts they finally came up with a letter that they thought would work.

 _To wholm it may concern,_

 _Brandon and I havee decided we don'tt wantt to go baeck to Hogwarrtss this yeair. Inndeed, itt has been agreeed between us rreally that ccoming to school isent a propper idtea. Wee hope thatd yous all understeanndd. Hhope evereyone alll has a phfantastic year without us._

 _Harry Potter_

After removing the extra letters, a person would come up with, _letters intercepted send help h._

Harry looked over at Brandon and said, "I hope Dobby is _really_ stupid."

"All the other drafts, you said that you didn't think anyone would be able to catch on that it was encoded," Brandon said. "Besides, from what you told me about his speech, I doubt Dobby would be overly concerned with grammar and spelling."

They tied the letter to Hedwig's leg, who flew off determinedly into the night.

X X X

A few days later, they got a response from Mr. Weasley.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _We completely understand if you and Brandon don't want to go to Hogwarts this year. We wish you the best of luck with whatever you do decide to do. Ron and the twins send their regards._

 _Arthur Weasley_

 _PS: Happy Birthday to Brandon on August 5 at 3 o'clock._

"Happy Birthday on August fifth at three?" Harry read the postscript confusedly. "Why at three? And your birthday's on the seventh."

Brandon smiled at his cousin. "That's his way of letting us know when he's coming. I'd better go tell Mum and Dad we're leaving tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:**

So, I thought that I would go ahead and post another chapter, seeing as this is where Brandon finally gets himself introduced into the magical world, so it _finally_ gets interesting.

Also, I'm sure you'll noticed that this is a lot longer than the previous chapters. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 were a lot shorter than I'm hoping to make most of them, Chapter 1 being absolutely _tiny_ by comparison. I don't expect that all my chapters will be as long as chapters 2, 6, and 7 are (as they are all about the exact same length), but very few of my chapters will be as short as those formerly mentioned.

Anyways, without further ado:

 **Chapter 6**

The Dursleys were most displeased at having such short notice that Mr. Weasley was coming. Vernon would have to be at work and thus would not be able to meet him himself. Petunia would be at home alone with the boys whenever the _'freaks'_ arrived. Dudley had wanted to visit a friend's house, but his mother had insisted that he should stay home to say goodbye to his little brother.

Brandon's goodbye to his father that morning before he left for the day was awkward to say the least. "Should I come home for any of the holidays?" he'd asked him.

"If you want to," Vernon had replied rather stoically. "Have a good year at—at school. Behave yourself, and get—get good marks." They shared a brief hug, and his father took off for work.

It occurred to Brandon that if he had misinterpreted the meaning of Mr. Weasley's letter, he and Harry would be in a very awkward situation when his father got home, late that evening.

Petunia, in comparison to her husband, was much more emotional on the matter. "I can't believe I have to go through this again," she had burst into tears as Harry brought his trunk downstairs. She ran forward and hugged her youngest son. "Vernon won't like it, but be sure—be sure to _owl_ us. At least once a week!"

Brandon thought that _he_ might cry when he heard these words. "I will, Mum."

But then his mother ruined it, "But remember that you can still live a normal life. You don't have to be a _freak_. This only has to be until you can control your—your m-m-magic."

He shared a pained look with Harry.

"Dudley!" Petunia shouted up the stairs after that. "Get down here, and spend some time with your brother before he leaves."

"You don't have to do that, Mum," Brandon said with a grimace. "Mr. Weasley said three o'clock and it's barely noon." But his mother seemed not to hear him.

Dudley came down the stairs, looking one part irritable, one part nervous, and two parts scared. He sat on the sofa and turned on the television without saying a word.

The last hours before three o'clock were torturous. What ifMr. Weasley _didn't_ show up? What would they do then? Doubts swirled in the minds of both cousins, and all they could really do was wait. Sitting in the living room with Dudley didn't help matters any either.

By ten till three, the two of them were _extremely_ anxious. Petunia busied herself doing some last minute cleaning, always eager to make a good impression, no matter who she was meeting. And Dudley continued watching TV in silence.

Finally the doorbell went off, and Harry and Brandon both rushed to answer it. When they opened the door, they found two men standing outside. One was very thin with balding red hair, wearing glasses, obviously Mr. Weasley. The other was even taller, black, and totally bald.

"Harry Potter!" Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. "A pleasure to meet you! Ron's told us all about you, of course. And this must be Brandon." He shook each of their hands.

"The pleasantries can wait, Arthur," the black man said. "Harry, we've secured the perimeter and found no sign of anyone that might be intercepting your letters. Do you have any idea who it is?"

"It's a house elf named Dobby," Harry told him.

"A _house-elf_ , you say?" Mr. Weasley asked incredulously.

"I see . . . " the black man said wearing an exasperated expression. "That's just wonderful. Now I'll have to explain to Scrimgeour why I have half his department in Surrey chasing after a _house elf_."

"We're sorry," Brandon told him, "We didn't mean to be such a nuisance, but we had no means of contacting any -"

"No, It's okay," the man said. "I believe you, and it's not your fault. We just thought that you were in serious danger."

"Regardless, we're sorry to be so much trouble, Mr. . . ?" Harry began.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt of the Auror Department at the Ministry. It's good to meet you, Harry—Brandon," the man said, giving them a smile. "Now I'm sorry to cut this short, but I'll leave you in Arthur's capable hands. I have to round up the rest of the Aurors here and return to the Ministry to give my report." And with that, there was a pop—significantly quieter than when Dobby had done it—and Kingsley Shacklebolt disappeared from sight.

Petunia walked up behind them just in time to see, and gave a shrill shriek.

"Oh!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "I'm terribly sorry if we alarmed you, Mrs. Dursley!"

"Just come in," she said quickly, ushering Mr. Weasley through the door.

"Well, now that that's been sorted, it'll take a minute for Kingsley to get everything straightened out with the rest of the Aurors, but he'll send the car around as soon as he gets done."

"What is an Auror?" Harry asked him.

"Well, Harry, as you know, not all witches and wizards adhere to all of our laws," Mr. Weasley began. "The Auror Department is the elite of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Mainly they chase down dark witches and wizards. Sort of like Muggle please-men."

"You mean policemen?" Brandon asked.

"Exactly!"

Just then, Brandon noticed Dudley watching them all warily from his place on the sofa. He looked ready to run screaming from the room at any time.

"So, have you packed all of your things?" Mr. Weasley asked after a moment. "All ready to go?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Harry told him.

"Ah, good. Here comes the transportation." And indeed a shiny black car had pulled up Privet Drive to park right outside the House. "Do you need any help with the trunk?"

"We can manage—" Brandon began, but before he could finish, Arthur pulled out his wand, gave it a little flick at the Trunk and it began levitating toward the car.

"Brilliant!" Brandon told him with a huge smile on his face. Thank you for your help, Mr. Weasley.

"It's nothing at all, the man told him with a smile.

Brandon turned back to give his mother and brother one last goodbye.

"I'll see you next year," Harry said, leaving his cousin alone with his mother and brother.

Petunia gave her son a hug and handed him a check, and told him, "This is for your tuition, and school supplies, as well as all the allowance you're going to receive for the rest of the year."

Brandon looked at the figure his mother had written on the check. "Good grief, Mum!" he exclaimed. "I'm sure this is _way_ more than I need!"

Mr. Weasley looked at the number and appeared to do some quick calculations in his head, converting the pounds into galleons. When he was done, his eyes bulged near out of his head. "Merlin's beard, magical school supplies aren't _that_ expensive!"

"I just want to make sure that you can afford the best of everything," Mrs. Weasley told her son emotionally.

"Well, thanks Mum," he told her feeling awkward, he'd never even _seen_ what this much money even looked like. "But you really don't need to give me this much."

"I don't need to, but I am," Petunia told him firmly. "Since Vernon made that Deal with Mr. Mason, we can afford it. Just don't _lose_ it."

"Okay," Brandon said. "I really appreciate it Mum." He carefully put the check into his pocket.

"Goodbye, my sweet Bran Bran. I'm going to miss you so much," his mother said, tears running down her face. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mum," Brandon told his mother. "I promise to write." After a moment he added, "Goodbye, Dudley."

"Bye, Brandon."

And with that, he got in the car and Mr. Weasley told the driver to take them to the Burrow, just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole.

The drive didn't take particularly long. The car seemed to be moving at about two hundred miles per hour by Brandon's guestimation. Whenever it seemed like it was about to run into something, it always seemed to squeeze out of the way at impossible angles. Sometimes, if it went between two cars, it actually did _literally_ squeeze _itself_ until it was small enough to pass between. What was really amazing though, was the simple fact that none of the Muggles seemed to notice.

"So, Brandon," Mr. Weasley said from the front passenger seat, "You'll be a first year at Hogwarts this year?"

"Yes, sir," Brandon replied. "I'm really excited about it."

"Well, I can certainly understand," Mr. Weasley laughed. "So, since you've both lived with Muggles all your lives, perhaps you can tell me, "What exactly is the function of a rubber duck?"

Brandon and Harry looked at each other with bemused expressions and proceeded to answer all the man's questions about the Muggle world.

"Fascinating!" he exclaimed as Harry talked him through how to use a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without Magic."

Soon, they arrived outside a small village in the country at what was assuredly the most _interesting_ looking house Brandon and Harry had ever seen in their lives.

"Here we are," Mr. Weasley said. "The Burrow! Home, sweet home."

It looked like it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added on here and there so many times that was now several stories high and so crooked that it could only be held up by magic. Four or five chimneys were perched on the red roof, and a lopsided sign sat in the ground near the entrance that read, _THE BURROW._

The three of them got out of the car and grabbed the trunk, and Mr. Weasley waved to the driver yelling, "Thanks for the ride, Angus!" as the shiny black car sped away again at ridiculous speed.

The door to the house opened and it seemed like everyone who was inside came out to greet them. Brandon recognized Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny, as well as two brothers that were unmistakably the twins - Fred and George. One more boy, older than all the rest and the only one that wore glasses like their father, came out last; Brandon knew Harry had mentioned an older brother in his letters but couldn't quite remember what his name had been.

"Harry!" Ron yelled as he ran to meet his best friend.

"Ron!"

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Brandon told the Weasley matriarch. "It's good to see you again."

"A pleasure to see you again too, sweetheart," she said, smiling warmly at him.

"Thank you for agreeing to take us in for the rest of the summer," Harry put in.

"It's no trouble at all, dears, now come on inside, and make yourselves at home."

"So who was intercepting your mail, Harry," Fred asked.

"We're the one's who cracked your genius _code_ ," George put in.

"Actually, that was my idea," Brandon told them.

"You'll both get to hear _all_ about it after you've finished degnoming the garden," Mrs. Weasley told them sternly, eliciting groans from her twin sons. "Honestly, if you'd done it when I asked you to this morning, the job would be well and done several hours ago."

"But Mum—" began Fred.

"No, buts," Mrs. Weasley told him.

"Can't we hear what was going on first? Honestly, we were worried, that's why we couldn't get any work done," George protested.

"A likely excuse if ever I've heard one," their mother said, but she seemed to have softened a little, and ended up letting them listen in as Harry and Brandon told them all about how they'd tried sending mail all summer long, and how Dobby the house elf had shown up in their room to give Harry his warning.

Mr. Weasley put in that the Ministry had been detecting a _lot_ of magic from Little Whinging during the past year, but had chalked the whole thing up to Brandon having lots of bursts of accidental magic.

"From the sounds of things, you have a lot of magic in you, young man," he told him, causing Brandon to blush.

"That's very unusual," Fred said.

"Don't house elves normally have to have their master's permision to use magic?" George added.

"Normally, yes," Mr. Weasley answered. "But I do believe there have been cases of rouge elves causing mischief before. "And they always end up having to punish themselves when they do it, like you said he did, Harry." He looked thoughtful before continuing, "But it's so very rare that I still think it's almost more likely that it was someone pulling a bad prank on you."

"Speaking of pranks," Mrs. Weasley said, rounding on the twins, "the two of you have heard the story, now get outside and degnome the garden, and be quick about it, because dinner will be ready before too very long."

"Yes, mum," Fred and George replied in unison, running off outside.

"Well, I'd best get back to the Ministry, Molly," Mr. Weasley told his wife. "I've still got some paperwork that needs filling out, but I should be home before too long. Though, you probably shouldn't wait on me for dinner, dear."

Harry and Brandon, with the aid of Ron, soon took their trunk up the stairs to the top floor where Ron's room was, which was where they'd be staying.

Stepping inside, the first thing Brandon noticed—the first thing anyone _could_ notice who wasn't color blind, was that everything in Ron's Room was a violent shade of orange, from the bed spread to the walls and even the ceiling. After a second he realized that Ron had covered every inch of the shabby old wallpaper in his room with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks and waving energetically.

"Your Quidditch Team?" Harry asked his best friend.

"The Chudley Cannons," he said, pointing to the bedspread, which was emblazoned with two great black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

The room was a bit untidy, but comfortably so; in the way that any young boy's room should be. All Ron's spellbooks were tucked away in a corner, and Ron's wand lay atop a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat pet rat, snoozing in a patch of sun.

Ron asked them what they wanted to do, when Brandon asked, "What does your mum mean by _degnoming_ the garden?"

"Gnomes are just garden pests," Ron told them. "Here, you know what, let's go on outside and you can see."

X X X

When Harry, Brandon, and Ron had all gone out to see the degnoming, they had decided to go ahead and help out since they were already out there. Needless to say, the twins finished quite early, thanks to the extra help, and when they went back inside, their mother immediately interrogated them.

"Back so soon? I know you can't possibly have gotten all those gnomes out of the garden already all on your own."

"We helped, Mrs. Weasley," Brandon defended the twins. "We'd never seen a degnoming before. We were curious."

"Well that was very sweet of you dears," Mrs. Weasley told the two boys, "But you really didn't have to. Honestly, Fred and George should have gotten done with it hours ago."

"It really wasn't any trouble, Mrs. Weasley. It went really quick with all of us working at it," Harry said.

"Well, dinner should be ready in a few minutes. Ron, why don't you go find Ginny. I think she's playing in -"

"I'm here, mum," Ginny said quietly as she walked into the room.

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said. Well, in that case, why don't you go find Percy. He should be -"

"In his room," Fred finished for her.

"He's been spending a lot of time in there," George added.

"Wonder what he's up to," Fred continued, "He hasn't been himself lately. His exam results came in yesterday; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"They were very good marks: ten O's and two E's," Mrs. Weasley said proudly, before returning to the kitchen where she returned her attention to the dinner she was preparing, and Ron went up the stairs to go get Percy.

"O.W.L.s?" Brandon asked. "Owls?"

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we could have another Head Boy in the family. I don't know if I could stand the shame."

"I've got so many questions spinning throug my head right now, I don't even know where to start," Brandon told them all.

"I guess it must be a bit overwhelming," Fred said.

"The Wizarding World is a whole other _world_ ," George added.

"First off," Brandon began, "O's and E's? Those are different marks than we get muggle schools."

"Really?" Fred asked.

"Well," George explained, "Passing grades are Outstanding, O; Exceeds Expectations, E; and Acceptable, A. Failing Grades are Poor, P; Dreadful, D; and the great insult of the lot: Troll, T."

"Troll?" Brandon laughed.

"Troll," Fred confirmed.

"Also," Brandon began with another question, " _another_ , head boy? I thought Percy was the oldest? There are _more_ of you?"

"Two more," George laughed.

"I wrote to you about Charlie," Harry told him, "When Ron, Hermione and I were figuring out what we were going to do with Norbert."

"I guess you did," Brandon replied, "But it was hard to keep track of so many Weasley's before, when I'd never even met any of them."

"Well, Bill is the eldest," Fred told him, "He lives in Egypt and works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker.

"Charlie is next," George continued, "And he lives in Romania, and works at the Dragon Reserve there.

"Then there's Percy," Fred said, looking up the stairs.

"Just a great, royal git, that one," supplied George, catching on, not needing to look back behind know the elder Weasley brother was descending the stairs.

"Oh, grow up, you two," Percy said irritably, Ron trailing shortly behind him.

Dinner with the Weasleys couldn't be any more different than dinner at the Dursley household, Brandon found himself thinking. The atmosphere was lively and everyone was talkative. His parents, on the other hand, always liked for dinner to be a relatively quiet time. It was a pleasant change. He told Mrs. Weasley that he loved the house. "It's so rustic, and very homey," He'd said.

"Why, thank you, Brandon, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a warm smile. "That's very sweet of you to say."

When dinner was done, Fred, George, Ron, and Harry all showed him how to play a game of exploding snap. Ginny watched quietly, and when she was out of earshot, Ron told he and his cousin, "You don't know how strange it is for her to be this shy. Normally she never shuts up." Paying more attention, Brandon noticed that she was a lot more talkative and blushed a lot less whenever Harry wasn't in the room.

By the time Mr. Weasley came home, Mrs. Weasley had announced that it was time for bed.

Fred and George hurried up to their room without complaint, and there was no doubt in Brandon's mind that the two of them _had_ to be plotting something. Judging from the expression on Mrs. Weasley's face, the same thoughts were crossing _her_ mind. Ginny shyly told he and Harry good night, before retiring upstairs herself, and Percy had already turned in for the night, hours ago.

Finally, after a goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Brandon and Ron all made their way up the stairs to their room.

When they got there, to their surprise, Fred and George were waiting for them.

"What are you two doing in here?" Ron asked them uncertainly.

"We're here to properly introduce Brandon to the Wizarding World," said Fred.

"Tell us, have you ever _flown_ before?" Geroge asked.

After waiting for a couple of hours for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to go to bed, the five of them snuck downstairs and outside to an old shed, where they found an aged turquoise car, a Ford Anglia.

Brandon raised his eyebrows questioningly at the twins. "Don't tell me that—"

"It flies," Ron said with a huge grin.

"Don't mention it to Mum though," Fred told he and Harry.

"Dad only told her that he bought it to take it apart and see how it worked," George said.

Fred and George climbed into the front seat, and Brandon, Ron and Harry in the back. Ron took the middle, since he'd done this before, so that the two who hadn't could get a decent view down below from the window seats.

"So why did Mr. Weasley have to borrow a Ministry car if he has this?" Brandon asked as Fred fired it up.

"Well, Dad would prefer if the ministry didn't know that he even has a car," Ron explained, "If they found out he'd enchanted it to fly—which isn't exactly legal—"

"He could get into a lot of trouble," Fred continued for him.

"And it would look pretty bad considering that Dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"The what?" Harry asked.

They were moving down the road now, and Brandon felt a tickling sensation in his stomach as the car left the ground, he looked out the window and watched as the ground moved further and further away. Five feet - ten - twenty . . . .

"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made," Ron said. "You know, in case they end back in Muggle hands, like if the owner loses something where a Muggle could find it, it gets stolen, or they die and their stuff gets sold to Muggle shops."

"Needless to say, flying cars—" began Fred.

"—are totally illegal," finished George.

"If he raided _our_ house, he'd have to put himself under arrest!" Ron said. "It drives mum mad."

"I bet," Harry laughed.

"So how are you liking your first experience flying?" Ron asked Brandon after a minute.

"It's _wicked!_ " Brandon replied enthusiastically. "I only wish it were a little brighter out and we could see the countryside a little better."

"Too risky to go out during daylight," Fred said.

George continued, "Could be spotted by muggles, or worse—"

"MUM!" Fred and George said together.

Finally, after flying around for about half an hour, the two of them brought the car back down and Brandon felt the tickling sensation in his stomach again as it touched the ground.

As they parked it back in the shed, they immediately knew that they'd been caught when they saw that the lights in the house were on. As they were all getting out of the car, they all heard Mrs. Weasley's voice shout, "FREDRICK AND GEORGE WEASLEY!"

" _Stay in here_." Fred whispered to Harry, Brandon and Ron. " _It sounds like we might be able to take the fall for this by ourselves._ "

" _There's no sense in you lot getting in trouble for this_ ," George added.

" _Are you sure?_ " Harry whispered back. " _We could -_ "

" _No time to argue!_ " Fred and George said together as they stepped out of the shed.

"Hey, Mum!" Fred said as he and his twin stepped out of the shed.

"Fancy meeting you out here in the middle of the night," offered George.

The sound of Mrs. Weasley's fury was a terrible thing to behold as she gave them a thorough tongue lashing, but it didn't take long for them to see her leading them both back inside the house by their ears.

"So will we wait out here for another hour?" Brandon asked. "Wait for them to fall asleep again?"

"No," Ron said, "I've got a better idea." He walked over to a pile of old broomsticks picked out three of them. He handed Harry one and Brandon another.

"More flying?" Brandon asked amusedly.

"It's really simple," Ron told him, "as long as you don't freak out. If you hurt yourself there's no way we'll not get in trouble. How're your nerves?"

"Trust me," Harry said teasingly, "he's got a lot of nerve."

Brandon took that for the compliment he knew it was.

"Better to be certain," Ron said. "Here, lets go back outside." The two of them marched back outside to a wide open area back behind the garden so that they couldn't easily be seen from the house. Ron took Brandon's broomstick and laid it out on the ground and told him to stand to the right side of it.

Brandon did as he was told, and once he was in position, Harry said, "Now put your left hand over the broom and say, 'up.'"

Somewhat bemused, Brandon once again did as he was told and found himself deeply surprised when the broomstick shot up into the air and into his waiting hand.

"It senses fear," Ron told him. "A lot of people have trouble doing that their first time flying, and then some people never do get the hang of it, _always_ afraid of flight."

Harry and Ron walked him through how he should hold his broom and how to control it, and then showed demonstrated to him how to hover.

Brandon copied their movements, successfully hovering a few feet off the ground for several seconds before coming back down.

"That was great," Harry told him encouragingly, now let's see if you can actually fly around a little bit."

Remembering their instructions, Brandon kicked back off the ground again and pushed the broom forward, and soon found himself flying around above the garden. He spotted a couple of gnomes wandering back into it, and he smiled. Harry and Ron joined him a few seconds later.

"Follow me and keep quiet," Ron told them, flying off toward one of the windows that Brandon recognized as the his bedroom.

Ron quietly opened the window and slipped inside, followed by Harry and finally Brandon.

As Harry and Brandon settled into the little extra bed that Ron said had been brought up for them, they heard Mrs. Weasley whispering angrily at the twins a little ways outside the door on the stairs.

" _Honestly! The two of you are worse than all your other brothers put together!_ "

As Ron settled into _his_ bed, he knocked something big and heavy that made a loud BANG, and the whispering outside their door suddenly went silent. After a moment, they heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs getting closer and closer to Ron's door.

When it opened, Mrs. Weasley stuck her head in, and Fred's and George's incredulous faces could be seen behind her.

" _Is everything okay in here?_ " Mrs. Weasley whispered.

"We're fine mum," Ron said in a sleepy sounding voice. "I had the window cracked and you woke us all up earlier when you were shouting at Fred and George outside."

" _Oh, I'm so sorry to have waked you, dears_ ," she apologized, not seeing the broomsticks laying under the windowsill. Fred and George did though, judging from the proud smiles on their faces, which they quickly lost as their mother turned back around on them.

" _Now you two!_ " she whispered very sternly. " _Get to bed! You've caused enough trouble for one night!_ " She closed the door and the three of them slowly drifted off to sleep.

 **Author's Notes:** I made the Ministry Cars a little more like the Knight Bus, which I don't know if I really like or not. But anyways, this _really_ was a fun one to write. I hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:**

Well, here we have a new chapter. Not a whole lot happens here, but there is some important stuff going on that'll be important later. I really hope that you all like it.

 **Update 05-15-16:** So I've put up a cover image for the story. It's a picture of William Moseley (the actor that played Peter Pevensie in _The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ and _Prince Caspian_ ), who I would probably cast for the role of Brandon Dursley (if he wasn't already too old in real life).

With no more ado:

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

The next morning after the fiasco with the flying car, Mr. Weasley sat down with Harry, Brandon, Ron, and Ginny for breakfast, looking rather sheepish. Clearly, Mrs. Weasley had already informed him that she now knew about the car, due to the joyride the night before. Brandon was glad, he wouldn't have wanted to listen to that conversation.

Mrs. Weasley came around with plenty of eggs, bacon and sausages for them all to eat and was very insistent that Brandon and Harry each took extra large helpings, saying that they were far too thin. At this point, Percy ambled in, already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning all," he said briskly. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the nearest chair, but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling out from underneath him, what could be mistaken at first glance as a moulting grey feather duster, except for the fact that it was breathing.

"Errol!" Ron exclaimed, taking the limp owl from Percy and detaching the letter tied to its leg. " _Finally—h_ e's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her after we got your encoded letter, when Dad sent you the one telling you he was going to come get you."

He ripped open the letter and read it aloud:

" _'Dear Ron, and Harry and Brandon, if you're there,_

" _'I hope that everything went alright and that Harry and Brandon are okay. That they would have sent an encoded message by itself is disturbing, let alone one that said 'send help,' but I must say that it was very smart of them to come up with that idea. I've been really worried about them and if they're both alright, please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off._

" _'I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'—_ How _can_ she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!— _'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?_

" _'Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.'_ "

"Well that fits in nicely," Mrs. Weasley said. "That reminds me, she left the room briefly and brought out a stack of envelopes and passed around their Hogwarts letters. "You lot have got them too," she said as Fred and George meandered in, still in their pajamas, while Brandon was looking over his list.

 **Hogwarts School**

 **of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

 **Uniform**

First year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

 **Course Books**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 **Other Equipment**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

After he was finished with his own, he looked over at Harry's which seemed rather tiny by comparison.

 **Second-year students will require:**

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Once Fred was finished with his own list, he peered over at Harry and Brandon's. "Looks like we've all been told to get Lockhart's Books!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Art's professor must be a fan - bet it's a witch." At this point, he caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," George put in, with a look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are expensive."

"Well, we'll manage," Mrs. Weasley replied, but she looked worried.

X X X

During their time at the Burrow, Harry and Brandon had the time of their lives. Never had either of them met nicer people than the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley had even baked Brandon a birthday cake and asked him about his favorite things to eat so that she could make them for dinner that night.

There was always something fun to do in the Weasley household. Some days, Brandon, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and sometimes Ginny would go up the hill to a secluded paddock that the Weasleys owned to practice Quidditch. It was surrounded by trees, so they couldn't be seen by the village below as long as they didn't fly too high.

They called what they were doing, _'practicing Quidditch,'_ but from what Brandon had heard about the sport, it was a lot more complicated than what they were doing. Mostly they flew around and threw apples, but Brandon didn't complain. He had a lot of fun. The twins told them that they couldn't use real Quidditch balls because it would be too hard to explain if they escaped and flew away over the village.

They all took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which Brandon learned quickly was easily the best broom of the lot.

In the evenings, Brandon would read through Harry's textbooks, and sometimes even borrowed some of the other books in the Weasley household, eager to learn as much as he possibly could before he would be heading off to Hogwarts. He could hardly stand the wait until he would get to go to Diagon alley.

When the day came, Mrs. Weasley woke all of them early, and after a quick breakfast, she pulled a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside, sighing, "We're running low Arthur. We'll have to by some more today. . . . Ah well, guests first!" She offered the flower pot to Harry.

Brandon watched as all eyes turned on Harry, who looked very bemused.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder before," said Ron suddenly, "Sorry, Harry, I forgot. Brandon wouldn't have had any experience with it either."

"Oh, well goodness me! If you've never used it before—"

"He'll be alright, Mum," Fred said. "Harry, just watch us first."

He grabbed a pinch of powder from the pot, marched up to the fire, and threw it into the flames, which roared, turning a bright emerald green and rising higher than Fred. Unperterbed, he stepped right in and shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"Be sure to speak, very, _very_ clearly dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George grabbed a pinch for himself. "And be sure to get out at the right grate."

"The right what?" said Harry nervouslyas the fire roared again, whipping George out of sight too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, but you should be fine as long as you speak clearly.

"Go on Harry, it's very simple," Mr. Weasley reasured him.

Harry grabbed his pinch of the Floo powder and nervously stepped toward the fire, he tossed it in and stepped forward, but he obviously made the mistake of inhaling while he was in the fire because he coughed, "D-Dia-gon Alley!" and he disappeared.

"I'd best go and make sure he's alright, Molly," Mr. Weasley said as he grabbed a pinch of powder for himself, disappearing in a flash of green fire a few seconds later.

Brandon took his own bit of Floo Powder next and readied himself. Walking up to the fire, he tossed it in, like he'd seen everyone do before him, and took a deep breath before stepping into the flames which, he was surprised to find, felt like a warm breeze.

"Diagon Alley!" he shouted, and before he knew it, he felt like he was being sucked down a great drain. He was spinning wildly, surrounded by green flames. He could see several fireplaces and managed to catch glimpses into some of the rooms beyond. After a few seconds, he saw the faces of Fred and George and he knew this was the grate he needed to take, but before he knew it, the flames, seeming to know where he needed to go, thrust him forward and out into the shop with the Weasley Twins.

"That was an interesting experience," Brandon said dizzily. He shook his head violently and turned his attention to his surroundings.

"We see you had better luck than your cousin did," Fred told him.

Brandon looked around and saw that he wasn't joking, Harry was nowhere in sight.

"He probably only went a grate or two too far," George reassured him. "Dad's out checking the other shops along Diagon Alley. He'll turn up."

Percy appeared from the fireplace a moment later. "Where's Dad and Harry?" he asked after he dusted himself off.

Ron came next, then Ginny, and finally Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, I do hope Arthur finds him quickly," she fretted when they told her. Soon they all set out to searching.

After nearly ten minutes, Brandon and Ron were looking with the twins and had just run into Percy and Mr. Weasley, when Fred cried out. "Look there! There he is just down the street, with Hagrid and Hermione!"

They all ran out to meet them.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted, "We _hoped_ you hadn't gotten too far."

"Where'd you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," Harry replied grimly.

"Wicked!" Fred and George said together.

"We've never been allowed in," Ron said enviously.

"I should ruddy well think not," Hagrid growled at them.

"What's Knockturn Alley?" Brandon asked.

"It's a dodgy place," Hagrid explained. "Normally, on'y the worst sort o' people ever go there—riffraff an' dark witches an' wizards."

Just then, Mrs. Weasley came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny clinging to the other. "Oh, Harry—oh, my dear—you could have been anywhere—" she said. When she learned where Harry had ended up, she wrung Hagrid's hand, "Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"

He extracted himself from her saying, "Well, gotta be off. See you at Hogwarts!"

"It's nice seeing you again, Hermione," Brandon told her as they made their way to the wizarding bank.

"Guess who I saw at Borgin and Burkes," Harry told them as they climbed the marble steps to the tallest building in Diagon Alley, Brandon thought it was easily the most impressive bank he had ever seen.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Malfoy and his father," Harry said.

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Mr. Weasley asked sharply behind them, as they entered through a pair of burnished bronze doors."

"No, he was selling," Harry replied.

"So, he's worried," said Mr. Weasely with grim satisfaction.

They now faced a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief you've been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something. . . ." Mr. Weasley continued.

"You be careful, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley told him sharply as they were all bowed into the bank by what appeard to be a goblin. It wore a guard's uniform of scarlet and gold and was about a head shorter than Brandon. He had a clever, swarthy face, a pointed beard, and, Brandon noticed, very long fingers and feet.

"That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew," Mrs. Weasley continued.

Once through the doors, they found themselves in a vast marble hall. About a hundred goblins were sitting behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley said somewhat indignantly, but was immediately distracted by the sight of Hermione's parents, standing nervously at the counter, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But you're _Muggles_!" Mr. Weasley said delightedly. "What's that you've got there? Oh, you're exchanging Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten pound notes in Mr. Grangers' hand. "Brandon here has Muggle parents too! But I believe his mother gave him a checky-something to exchange for money!"

"Do you _accept_ checks?" Mrs. Granger nervously asked one of the goblins behind the counter. Brandon noticed one his eyes looked dead and blind.

"For a higher exchange fee," said the goblin grumpily.

Meet you back here, "Ron said to Hermione and Brandon as He, Harry and the other Weasleys were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

"Is it okay if Brandon stays here with you, until we get back?" Mrs. Weasley asked the Grangers.

"We'd be happy to watch over him," Mr. Granger said.

Brandon was a little disappointed that _he_ wouldn't get to go underground and see the vaults, but he supposed that it couldn't be helped.

"Now let me see this _check_ ," said the goblin in front of him.

Immediately digging the check out of his pocket, Brandon presented it to the goblin gingerly, somewhat nervous under the piercing gaze of the creature's good eye.

"This looks to be in order," said the goblin after a moment. He then dug out a ledger and a pouch from under the counter and began weighing out some gold on a brass scale. "I suppose you'll want to use some of this to pay your tuition for your attendance at Hogwarts, Mr. Dursley? We can send it to the Hogwarts account immediately if you like?"

"Uh, yes please . . . Mr.—um—" Brandon began saying to the goblin, who wrote something down in the ledger

"White-eye," the goblin said gruffly, busying himself with weighing the gold.

 _How appropriate,_ Brandon thought to himself after a moment, though he didn't dare say the words out loud. He would never be so rude, especially to such a sinister looking character like White-eye.

"So," said Mrs. Granger after a moment, "You have non-magical parents as well?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brandon told her.

"What do your parents do for a living?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Well, Dad works in the office at Grunnings, while Mum stays at home and looks after the house," Brandon explained.

"Grunnings, the Drill company?" Hermione asked him.

Brandon learned that Hermione's parents were dentists, and had a pleasant conversation with them, while he waited for the Goblin to finish counting out the gold.

It didn't take too long, and before Brandon knew it, the creature handed him a medium sized leather pouch. He took it, and was so surprised by how much it weighed that he almost dropped it. He had never realized that real gold was so heavy.

"Thank you, sir," Brandon told the goblin with a bow like the guards at the door had given them all earlier. "Have a good day, Mr. White-eye."

"May your gold ever flow," replied the goblin, writing some more things down in the ledger.

When Harry and the Weasleys came back, they all left the bank, most and most everyone separated, agreeing that they would all meet up again at Flourish and Blotts in an hour. Mr. Weasley took the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron to share a drink; Fred and George ran off when they saw their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan; Percy vaguely muttered something about needing a new quill; and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all took off down the cobbled street to find something to do, as most everything new that the second years would need could be purchased at Flourish and Blotts. This left Brandon with Ginny and Mrs. Weasley to go buy their basic miscellaneous supplies: cauldrons, scales, phials, and telescopes, as well as ink and parchment.

He had been too busy worrying about Harry when he'd been walking around in it before, but Brandon couldn't help but think how splendid the place truly was. The whole place was abuzz with activity. Witches and Wizards of every age made their way through the streets to buy anything and everything from potion ingredients and supplies at the apothecaries to broomsticks and Quidditch balls at the brooms shops.

When they went to get school robes, they split up so that Brandon could go to Madam Malkins and get new robes, while Ginny and Mrs. Weasley went to a secondhand robe shop. He felt a bit awkward about this, how _his_ parents could afford to let him buy everything new when the Weasleys couldn't.

"Hogwarts dear?" asked a squat, smiling witch all dressed in mauve, she introduced herself as Madam Malkin and stood him up on a footstool with a long robe fitted onto him, which she began pinning up at the right length.

It took a lot less time than he thought it would. When she was finished, she took the pinned robes to a back room and brought out three finished sets of plain black robes, all in his size. She must have used magic to get done so quickly.

Brandon went ahead and bought his hat and cloak, as well as a pair of dragon hide gloves. When he had everything, he asked Madam Malkin if there was a dressing room, so that he could see what it looked like.

After putting everything on in the small room, he looked himself over in the mirror.

The robes felt and looked very foreign to him, but he figured that he looked good in them. He swept a hand through his windblown blonde hair and looked straight into his own ocean blue eyes, silently reassuring himself that he looked okay.

He noticed that he'd even gotten a little bit of a tan having been outside so much during the past week, practicing Quidditch with the Weasleys.

Satisfied, Brandon left Madam Malkin's, carrying all of his bags to meet up with everyone at Flourish and Blotts, as it had already been an hour.

A ways outside the magical bookstore, Brandon ran into Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione was squealing. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

Brandon looked at Flourish and Blotts and saw what Hermione was talking about, there was a large crowd outside the bookshop - mostly witches of an age with Mrs. Weasley—jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. A large banner stretched across the upper windows proclaimed the reason why:

 **GILDEROY LOCKHART**

will be signing copies of his autobiogrophy

 _MAGICAL ME_

today 12:30 pm to 4:30 pm

"That's just great," Brandon said irritably. "I was hopping to be able to enjoy a few quiet minutes in the bookstore before we left to browse through their selection.

This seemed to break Hermione's cheer a little bit; clearly she had wanted to be able to do the same.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione found _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ very quickly and went to join the rest of the Weasleys in the crowd, but Brandon still had a whole booklist to find, so he stayed away and perused the shelves, finding his schoolbooks one by one, until all he had left to get were the Lockhart books. He was rather thankful that the crowd was mostly gathered in a different section of the shop, or else he would really have a difficult time trying to navigate through all the people to find his books.

It was difficult, but for the most part, Brandon managed to block out the noise in the shop to skim through some of the books. He'd already read through Harry's textbooks quite a bit, so he didn't bother rereading his new copies. Bathilda Bagshot's _A History of Magic_ didn't contain a whole lot beyond the nineteenth century, so Brandon grabbed ahold of a book entitled _Modern Magical History_ , which he decided to buy after skimming through it a little.

He looked through several other books in the different sections, but didn't decide to buy very many. After all, from what Harry had told him, the library at Hogwarts was pretty extensive, and why buy a lot of books that he might never read again, when he could read them for free from the library?

When he was done, as well as the extra history book, he had found a book about the different species of dragons that went into a lot more detail than Newt Scamander's _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , as well as containing information about extinct species, whereas Scamander only mentioned those that still existed. It also contained vivid, stunning, moving illustrations of each individual breed.

He also found an interesting looking book that was all about the goblins and their culture, which Brandon thought could be useful, considering that they guarded everyone's money in the wizarding world, essentially controlling almost the entirety of the world's magical wealth.

When Brandon went to find everyone again, carrying his small stack of books, he came across a very surprising sight. Hagrid was standing in between two wizards that looked like they'd just been in a fistfight, but what really made him do a double-take was that one of the two was Mr. Weasley. The other had long blond hair and a pointed face that might have been handsome if it weren't currently held in a sneer. When Brandon saw the boy standing behind him, who looked just like the elder in front of him, it clicked: these were the Malfoys.

"Here girl—take your book—it's the best your father can give you." He thrust an old looking book into Ginny's hands and stalked out of the shop with his son.

Brandon got the whole story from Harry: how Lockhart had dragged him to stand for photographs for the _Daily Prophet_ , so that he could make the front page, and how Draco came to berate Harry for it, with Ron coming to his defense, nearly getting into a fistfight _himself_ when the adults stepped in, Mr. Malfoy being every bit the " _prat"—_ as Harry said—that Draco had been, making Mr. Weasley mad enough to jump him.

Mrs. Weasley was very cross with her husband as they left Flourish and Blotts, "A _fine_ example to set for your children . . . _brawling_ in a public . . . _What_ Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought—"

"He was pleased," Fred commented. "Didn't you hear him as we left? He asked the bloke from the _Prophet_ to try and work the fight into the report—said it was all about publicity—"

After that, all they needed to get was Brandon's and Ginny's wands. Mr. Weasley took all the other children to the Leaky Cauldron, once again talking animatedly with the Grangers, while Mrs. Weasley led them to a narrow, Shabby looking shop that read in peeling gold letters: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

As they opened the door into the shop, a tinkling bell rang somewhere deeper within, announcing their arrival. Brandon looked down the long aisles of shelves of neatly stacked, narrow boxes, and felt a chill run down his spine. Every part of this store seemed to tingle with magic, from the boxes to the dust to the silence itself.

After a moment, an old man came walking out from one of the aisles. His wide pale eyes shined like moons through the gloom of the place. "Good afternoon," he said. "I see we have another Weasley."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander," Mrs. Weasley told him.

"Molly Prewitt," Ollivander said. "English Oak with unicorn hair, ten and three quarter inches. A good wand for charm work."

Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at him, "You never forget."

"What are your names," the elderly wand maker asked as he turned to Brandon and Ginny.

"Ginny Weasley," Ginny told him nervously.

"Brandon Dursley," Brandon answered.

Before either knew what was happening, Ollivander had pulled out a tape measure and began measuring Ginny, asking, "Which is your wand arm?" and, "Can you hold it out?" He did the same with Brandon.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of powerful magical substance," the wandmaker told them, "We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail-feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, phoenixes, or dragons are quite the same. And really, you never get such good results with another wizard's wand. The _wand_ must choose the witch or wizard, not the other way around."

He pulled a box from one of the nearest aisles and opened it, pulling out a long, thin wand, which he handed to Ginny, saying, "Here we are, mahogany with dragon heartstring, nine and three-quarter inches—Just take it and give it a wave."

Ginny took it and waved it about awkwardly, before Mr. Ollivander snatched it from her hand again. "No, that won't do," he said. He grabbed a spindly looking chair from the corner and lay the wand on top of it, before going back to grab another.

This one, he offered to Brandon, saying, "Hawthorn and phoenix tail-feather, twelve inches. Very swishy."

Brandon gave it a quick wave, but it too was quickly snatched from his hand.

Ollivander tried several more wands, alternating between the two of them the whole time that he did this, grabbing a different one every time, never letting either of his customers try the wand that the other just had. When Brandon asked him why, he replied, "If someone tries it again too soon, the wand could become confused."

After going through about a dozen wands apiece, Ginny finally got results when Ollivander brought out another wand, "Try this one, chestnut with unicorn hair, ten and a half inches—Nice and bendy."

When Ginny waved her wand, a flash of extra loud crackling sparks errupted from it in shades of Chudley Cannon orange and emerald green.

"Marvelous!" Ollivander said, and Mrs. Weasley clapped proudly. "Bravo, yes! Very good, indeed!"

Mrs. Weasley promptly paid the man with what looked to be her last bit of gold. Brandon hoped, for her family's sake, that Mr. Weasley still had some left over.

"I wonder what color my sparks will be," Brandon thought aloud. "Harry told me that his were red and gold."

"Oh, it's not always sparks, though that is the most common effect," Ollivander told him. "Sometimes it's a cool mist or a beam of light. But how do you know Harry Potter?"

"I'm his cousin, on his mother's side," Brandon explained. "Lily Evans was my aunt."

"You're a muggleborn too, then?" the wand maker asked him curiously.

"Yes sir."

"Interesting," Ollivander replied, retreating back into one of the aisles. After a moment, he brought out another wand for Brandon to try, and they began again. Finally, after going through a total of four dozen wands, Brandon found _his_ wand.

"Let's try this one—Alder with dragon heartstring, twelve and a quarter inches, surprisingly swishy."

Brandon knew that this was the one the moment he touched the wood. He felt the warmth in his fingers. He waved it up into the air and a long, thin jet of flame errupted from the tip of the wand, starting blue at the tip, and turning yellow and orange as it got further away. The stream was almost two feet long.

"Oh-ho!" Ollivander exclaimed clapping, as Mrs. Weasley and Ginny did the same. "Very unusual effect! I would hazard a guess that you will find you have an acute natural affinity for pyromancy."

"What?" Brandon asked, not understanding.

"You will probably be very gifted with fire spells," Ollivander explained in simpler terms.

Once Brandon paid for his wand, he, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley all made off back to the Leaky Cauldron, where they took the Floo back to the Burrow.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Well, what did you think? Leave a review! What house do you think Brandon will be sorted into?


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